Angelus Bellum
by Sleeping-force's-inside
Summary: [Pre-games] War always looked angelic. What if someone noticed that when he was still little and took him to sell him to the demons? R & E & R 44th Chapter Online!
1. Prologue

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:**** Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:**** Prologue**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me and Foodformind**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The first thing he saw were his siblings leaning over him.

The first thing he heard was his sister cooing to him, her purple hair a fan around her head.

The first thing he felt, his middle brother adjusting the soft furs to cover him better.

The first thing he tasted, the milk he was fed by his eldest brother.

He squeaked happily, reaching up towards the pale-skinned male holding him. The other grinned lightly, offering his finger to the flailing hand.

The first thing he touched was the bony finger, the skin cool to his touch.

"He has a strong grip." The eldest said, tugging playfully on his finger. "He'll be a great warrior when he grows up."

"He'll need to be." The sister whispered, carefully caressing the snow-white hair dusting the little head. "He looks like a little angel."

"We're going to have a field-day keeping him alive, aren't we?" The middle brother muttered, briefly opening the furs to look at the babe his sibling was holding. "The others will so try stuff, won't they?"

"Do not remind me." The eldest growled softly, wrapping the furs around the child again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Nuh!" He squirmed. "I dun wanna!"

"You have to." His eldest brother held him securely tucked under an arm. "You brought it upon yourself… what with rolling in the mud."

"But… but… they started it!" He increased his squirming when they got dangerously close to the river. "DUN WANNA!"

"Child, you will go into the river, whether you like it or not." The male holding him stated, tucking him back when he nearly escaped. "Also, how will you ever earn your name if you are afraid of water?"

"I is nut scared! Water is cowld!" The child exclaimed, struggling to get out of the death-grip of his sibling. "Lemme go!"

"It's 'I am'…" The elder automatically corrected him. Arriving at the water's edge, he did not stop walking, but headed straight into the current.

"NUH!" The child wailed, before being dunked into the icy water. For good measure he got dunked a couple more times before his brother headed back to shore with him. In one hand, he held a shivering little wet ball.

His teeth clattered like mad and the child could have sworn he did not feel his feet anymore.

Back in their tent, the elder wrapped him in several warm furs and put him beside the cooking-fire.

"Bath?" His sister asked from where she was cooking dinner.

"He rolled in the mud." The eldest answered, nodding lightly as he headed over to his sleeping-roll.

"They started it." The child countered again, burrowing into the warm furs as he still shivered from his impromptu bath. "They teased me cause I looks like angel."

"'I look like an angel'." His eldest brother immediately corrected. "And you should not have started throwing around punches."

The child pouted, nearly disappearing fully in the furs.

"Where's Strife, by the way?" The black-haired male asked. "I have not seen him all day."

"He got called for a raid while you were gone." The female answered, using her dagger to poke the meat. "He said they'd be back in three days."

"But he went last week already." The eldest took out his work, returning to working on the skin. "What is it with Absalom and sending him out?"

His sister merely shrugged.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Here, child." The eldest held out something to him. "For your third winter on this world."

"Oh?" Big blue eyes looked at the offered thing. "Whas it?"

"'What is it'." The elder corrected with a chuckle. "It's a toy I made for you."

The eyes seemed to widen with delight. "Really!?" He reached for it, accepting it. It was a bunny – or rather had been a bunny – stuffed with what felt like straw and two black stones for eyes. "Is so nice! Thank you!"

"'It is'." Came the automatic correction. "I am glad you like it." A bony hand came to rest on the white-haired head, briefly tousling the long tresses. "Take good care of it, yes?"

"I will." The child beamed, hugging it.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Stay nearby, will you?" His middle brother called out, jogging after the child. "You know you're not supposed to leave the camp alone."

"But you is with me." The child countered, giggling while he clutched his bunny. He started running again when the older male nearly reached him. He liked playing with him.

"Not if you keep running away from me." The short-haired male answered, keeping a steady jog after his sibling. "Now come back here!" He broke into a sprint, making the little boy shriek with laughter as he barely missed him.

They toyed around like that for a while, until the little boy collapsed to the ground, giggling even as he tried to catch his breath. His older sibling sat down beside him, poking him.

"Do you yield?" He demanded, lightly tickling the child.

"Never!" The white-haired child squeaked, trying to wriggle away from the tickling fingers. "Stwife, you so silly! I never yields!"

"Little brat." 'Stwife' took to poking him again. "I'll show you butchering my beautiful name!"

"NUH!" The boy shrieked with laughter. After a few poke-filled minutes the elder stopped, allowing him to catch his breath.

"You hear that?" 'Stwife' suddenly asked. Gathering his younger brother in his arms, he swiftly headed towards the sounds there were now filling the silence. It sounded like screams…

"The camp!" The child pointed, one arm clutching his bunny. Several tents were burning!

A series of curses left the elder's mouth. "Listen to me, you gotta…" He turned to his sibling, moving to put him down. Said sibling would never know what he wanted to say: blood splattered him when something pierced the elder.

Steel stopped mere inches in front of his terrified face. His brother groaned, gritting his teeth when whoever wielded the blade twisted it and pulled it back smoothly. He fell, barely missing his little sibling.

"Stwife!" The child wailed, about to run forward when seeing what was in front of him. A big, blue-grey form towered above the fallen male. Light-blue eyes widened in fear and the little boy tried to run. Instead a hand reached out, yanking him back by his long hair. Grabbing the hand that held his hair on instinct, the boy dropped his toy to fall in the rapidly forming pool of blood of his elder sibling.

"Well, you are a cute one." The sharp teeth formed into a grin. "I know exactly what to do with you." He tucked the struggling and screaming child under his arm. "Vulgrim will pay a nice price for you, I am sure."


	2. Chapter 1

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:**** Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:**** 1**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He kept wailing as he was being carried away from his elder sibling. The other was not moving and the pool of blood was growing by the moment. "Stwife!"

No answer.

"STWIFE!" He struggled harder, but there was no way he'd be able to free himself from the demon's grip.

"Will you stop wailing, brat?" The tall male snarled, taking him by his scruff and shaking him. "Or I'll cut your damn tongue out."

"Lemme go!" The child kept struggling until the demon threw it down, smacking his head against one of the many rocks littering the ground. Pain and darkness flooded his young brain.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

By the time he came too again, he was in a dark and cramped space. Coarse fabric surrounded him on all sides and he could feel his knees and elbows get scuffed from it. Once in a while he would get rattled by apparent bumps in the road, throwing him from side to side.

Whimpering, he curled up as tightly as he could, wondering where he was going and why his siblings had not saved him yet. Which was roughly the moment he remembered his capture and the fate of his elder brother. Had he survived that? Could he survive that?

Tears formed in his blue eyes and he hugged his knees, feeling the half-dried blood of 'Stwife' on his pants.

"Eeeh…" He hiccupped, trying to keep the incoming wails at bay. His siblings had taught him to always stay strong. He must not cry, but the tears were coming fast.

"Eek!" A fist hit him hard, swinging the bag he was in back and forth. Pain bloomed where it had hit.

"Shaddup, brat." A rough voice told him, a hand closing around his head and squeezing. "I don't want to hear none of you, got that?"

When he let go, the child curled up even more, wrapping himself in his tiny arms. Everything hurt now and he just wanted to get back to his family now.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He squeaked when his bag got tossed onto the ground. The demon spoke with someone else, but he could not understand what they were saying. Sniffling lightly, he reached for where it was tied shut, trying to open it from the inside.

Even as the discussion grew more heated, he managed to push the rope closing the bag up until it fell to the ground and he could open it. He immediately wished he had not.

Looking up, he came face to face with a horrible demon with armored hands and big horns. His wings were mere stubs wrapped with bandages.

"Oh my." Before the child could retreat, the demon had grabbed him and lifted him to eye-height. "Yes, this is most interesting. Very well, consider the deal struck." A lecherous grin formed on his face. "I would certainly know a few demon-lords who'd pay handsomely for a little angel."

"I is nuh angel!" The child screamed, trying to free himself from the hand around his neck.

"But you are close enough." The demon grinned. "Once I prepared you a bit, that is."


	3. Chapter 2

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:**** Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:**** 2**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Strife! Child!" They had repelled the demons that had attacked them, but neither of his brothers had returned yet. Death instinctively knew that something was horribly wrong and so he had ordered several younger Nephilim to scan the surrounding lands, ostensibly to find _anyone_. He himself was leading them, running without pause as he scanned the area for his two siblings. Where were they?

A short distance away he saw the deep-purple hair of his sister, the slender female bouncing from boulder to boulder.

Something was nagging at the edge of his mind. Slowing down, he moved between some boulders after having given Fury a short beckon to follow him. He smelled blood.

Rounding a particularly massive boulder, his eyes widened. "No…" Passing in front of them was a trail of bloody footprints. Even as he struggled to recover enough to move again, his sister had rushed forward heading in the opposite direction from where the prints themselves were heading.

"STRIFE!" When the Firstborn reached her, she had already fallen to her knees beside the second brother. Of the youngest, there was no trace.

Unable to look at the eldest of those he had raised, Death agonizingly slowly bend to pick up something he spotted when moving closer. The bunny he had given the child…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The little child whimpered in the corner of his cage. It was dark and cold. He just want to go back home to his brothers and sister, he even missed Stwife's teasing. Shivering he stared fearfully between the bars at the floating merchant grinning down at him.

"Yesss, I know some demonlords who would pay a hefty price for you." The demon hissed while poking the weeping child, who had long lost the battle to keep the tears at bay. "Need to clean you up though. Must look your best."

"Vulgrim." Someone called out as they entered. The male's silhouette looked decidedly un-demonic, dressed in dark-grey robes and a voluminous cape covering his back and head. "Did you find what I requested?"

The merchant looked up at what seemed to be his name and floated to the visitor. "Archangel Azrael, oh yes, I do have your scroll. Come, come follow me." Rubbing his hands, he led his client into the back of his store. "Do you have the payment?"

"Certainly." The voice was filled with quite some distaste, but its' owner still revealed a small bag he had seemingly carried in his sleeves. "I do hope you will not try to trick me though, I would be most displeased."

"I wouldn't dare to displease my dear customers, Azrael." Vulgrim answered in a silky voice, picking up the scroll. "Here it is." His claw already reached out towards the bag in greed. After all, he always was paid well for his silence as well. After the other had checked the contents of the scroll, the bag exchanged hands. Oh yes, paid well indeed.

The blue-eyed boy couldn't help but to sniffle at that moment. His eyes widened when it became apparent that the customer had heard him and was now coming over. Cringing into a even smaller ball, he stared in fear at the tall male. His siblings always told him to stay away from others; they were very dangerous and would harm him if they caught him. It was even worse that he could not see the face.

"I will be taking the child as well, Vulgrim." The visitor reached down to open the cage and pull the child onto his arm. Whimpering, the child tried to free himself from the grip, but despite the slender arms he felt underneath the robes, he could not free himself. He just wanted be to back home, back to the tent with his siblings!

"Well, because you are great customer, it will be 55000 souls." Greed gleamed in the demon merchant's eyes. Only to be replaced by something akin to _fear_ when fire erupted from his customer. White flames roared upwards, consuming the cloak in moments.

"I offer you one soul, Vulgrim." The male half-turned. _"Your own."_ Glorious white wings burst open in a rain of sparks, heat surrounding him and the child he held secure against his chest. The child's eyes widened at the burst of fire, too scared to even struggle himself free. That was an _angel!?_

"I am leaving." The angel turned to the door, walking even as tongues of fire fell of his wings to sizzle out on the ground. The merchant made no move to stop him.

"Please, lets me go." The little boy begged in a soft whisper. He tried once again to get free from the winged man's grip. Where were his siblings?

"And you think you can get home if I did?" The tall angel softly asked as the fire faded and they stepped outside into the infernal landscape of Hell. His face filled with pity when seeing the eyes of the child widen in horror at the sight.

"Where are we?! Where is camp?" Crying in earnest, the child stopped trying to get free. "Where is big brother, brother and sister?"

"You were taken to Hell, child." The winged male gently caressed his tangled locks as he took to the sky. "I fear I cannot tell you where your family is."

Feeling the strange sensation of flight, the boy grabbed the robe of the man and pressed his face in it to muffle his cries.


	4. Chapter 3

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:**** M**

**Couples: Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Images**

**Chapter:**** 3**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Azrael held the boy securely as they crossed the veils to reach his home in the White City. Appearing in his living-room, he carefully untangled his robes from the child's grip. Suddenly the boy struggled in his grip, falling to the ground and dashing away from him.

Gasping in surprise, Azrael blinked as the child ran away from him. Well, THAT was certainly unexpected. "Child?" Closing the door with his hand so it could not get away, he followed it slowly to the couch under which it had crawled. "You do not need to fear me."

"You lie. Brother says don't trust anyone. They all wants to hurt!" The tiny voice of the boy came from the hiding-spot.

When Azrael looked at him, he saw wide blue eyes look back. "But surely not everyone is untrustworthy. How can your brother judge me if he never met me?"

"He said everybody who is not family, wills try to hurt me...", the child replied, "Cuz I look different."

"You don't look so different to me." Azrael pointed out, combing his own platinum hair with his hand. Granted, the child's eyes were strikingly blue, but still... no need to kill it.

"You are different..." The boy stared at the angel's hair, blinking in question. "Brothers and sister said feathered people will try to hurt us."

And that was when something klicked in the angel's head: this was no angelic child. "Well, have I tried to hurt you yet? And why would I begin with it now? You didn't do anything that could warrant me hurting you."

There was silence between the two of them as the boy thought about it. Hesitantly he asked: "You wills not hurt me? Like brother said?"

"Of course not." Azrael answered. "There's certainly no reason for me to hurt you." He held out his hand. "Won't you come outside? Maybe I can help you find your brother and other siblings..."

Looking at the hand, the child slowly reached out to it and placed his own on it. The Archangel saw his eyes widen, probably at noticing that their skin was the same colour. "You promise? "

"I promise to do my very best at finding your family." The angel gently closed his hand around the child's. "Why don't you come out from under there? I'm sure you'd like some food and maybe a bath to clean up a bit?"

Pulling back his hand, the boy pouted. "Dun wanna bathe. Water is always cold. " He pushed himself against the wall.

The angel chuckled a bit. "Not this water, I promise you." He kept holding out his hand. "This water is snuggly warm."

Looking unbelieving at the angel, the child carefully inched towards him. "Water warm?"

"Jup." Azrael smiled at him. "Tell you what, you can try with your finger and if it is too cold, you don't have to bathe, only wash-up... Deal?"

"Okway." The child answered quietly and put his hand on the male's. After he crawled out down the couch, he held tightly onto the hand.

"Come along then." Azrael led him through the building, stopping briefly at his bedroom to pick a robe he could shrink for the child. Then he drew a bath.

"What is you doing? Shoulds we not go to river", the white-haired child stared puzzled at the tall male filling the hole in the ground.

"This is how angels bathe." The winged male chuckled softly. "Come feel. Is this warm enough?" He beckoned the child over to the edge while getting up himself to fetch some soap and towels.

Taking a few steps forward, the child knelt and touched the water. Grinning at the angel, he swirled his hand through the warm water. "Is so nice and warm!" He leaned even further over the water, only to lose his balance and fall with all his clothes into the tub.

Azrael blinked a bit when seeing the child fall. "Oh dear, are you alright?" He asked, kneeling down at the edge of the tub as the boy surfaced again. He carefully pushed some wet strands out of the little face in concern.

"I is fine" The child looked sadly at the angel, sniffing a few times. Tears began to well up from his eyes as he rubbed his head. "My clothes are wet and I..."

"Why don't you take them off so they can dry then?" Azrael suggested, shedding his own clothes down to his pants as he slipped into the water as well.

With a hiccup, the child struggled to remove his tunic. "Help?"

Chuckling a bit, the elder gently helped the child remove his clothes, laying them down at the tub's edge. Then he took the soap and started cleaning the boy. "So what is your name, child?"

"Don't have any. I dids not earn one, yet. Must become strong first." The child stared fascinated at the bubbles, trying to poke them. "Brother calls me brat when he is angry. Not many times."

"That... might not be the best name." Azrael dryly told the boy. "Do you mind if I think one up? I think calling you 'child' the entire time will get a bit annoying. Not to mention people will ask questions." He smiled lightly at seeing the child's reaction to the bubbles. With a bit of extra scrubbing, there were even more now. "Turn around so I can tackle your hair, please."

Obeying the angel, the boy turned around. "But they always calls me 'child' or 'boy'. I hasn't earn a name yet."

"Well, if you need to be strong to get one..." Azrael carefully started to untangle the long platinum tresses. "I think you were pretty strong just now to trust me and come out from under my furniture, don't you think?"

"But, I thought to be strong I can hit anybody and not get taken from family?" The child questioned, trying to look over his shoulder at the male behind him.

"There are many different kinds of strong." He in turn pointed out. "Trusting a stranger is pretty strong, right?" He asked the boy.

Looking down at the water, the boy hesitated for a few seconds. "I guess so, but you are nice. You got me out of that scary place."

"But I could just as well have been mean, couldn't I?" The angel countered, frowning a bit at the amounts of knots in the boy's hair. Did his siblings never untangle these?

"But you are not." Wincing at the tugging while the angel groomed him, the boy admitted, "I am confused."

"I can imagine." Azrael assured him. "But believe me, you were very brave and strong earlier."

"Oh, so what name do you wanna give me?" He tried to turn around so he could look at the angel, but was stopped as the male struggled with his hair.

"Mmmhh..." The scholar thought for a bit. "What do you think of Zeruch?" He offered, pulling his hands back so the child could look at him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 4**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What does that mean?" The child knew his siblings had gotten names describing their abilities or character. He wondered about this one, though he liked the sound of it.

"It means 'angel of strength'." Azrael explained, tilting his head lightly as the child looked at him.

"I like it." The child beamed at the elder male, only for his eyes to widen in shock. "Oh, I forgot to ask yours!" He looked guiltily at the angel. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." He assured the child. "My name is Azrael. So what are the names of your siblings? Do you remember?"

"They's Eldest, Stwife and Sis." Zeruch perked up at mentioning his siblings. "All three are super strong and smart. Most others ares scared of Eldest. He is always grumpy but he can nice. And Sis..." The child kept on rattling on how amazing his family was.

Azrael smiled warmly at the excitement of the child, though some dark thought came into his head as the bubbles started disappearing. The child never had wings: there were no wounds or scars on his back and the way he described his family was far from angelic either. "Zeruch... Are you a Nephilim?"

Zeruch nodded happily at the question."Big brother says we are Neph... Nepha... that. He is Firstborn so that is why he always has to be with Leader. I don't like Leader, he looks funny at brother."

"Ah..." Though he still listened intently at what the child was saying, inside Azrael wondered how he was supposed to find the Nephilim of all people! After all, they kept hopping from one world to the next like frogs from lily-pads. Lifting the child out of the water, he towelled him off and wrapped him in the shrunken robe.

Still rattling on, Zeruch let the angel cloth him. "This is soft, like Bunny." He felt sad again; he lost Bunny when the demons caught him.

Noticing the child was sad, but unsure how he should ask why, Azrael instead opted to lead him into the kitchen and start make some food. "Anything you'd like to eat?" He asked gently as he lifted the boy onto a chair.

"I likes meat." Zeruch noticed only then how hungry he really was. "Are you going to raid to get some?"

"Ah, no..." He did not like the implications of that question. Did the Nephilim _eat_ those they killed!? "I fear you'll have to make do with some sandwiches, the cook went home already." Azrael looked at the child. "Now, while you are here, can you do something for me?"

"Uh... sure." A bit surprised that the angel didn't go on a raid to get food and also wondering what 'sandwiches' are, he asked. "What can I do?"

"You'll have to stay with me for at least a couple days." Azrael explained as he made some simple sandwiches. "While you are, if anyone is to ask, you are a little angelic boy whose wings were cut off. Can you do that?"

"Like those pretend-games?" Zeruch enquired while looking interested at what Azrael was doing.

"Exactly like those." The angel nodded lightly as he carried a plate with sandwiches – and a glass of juice – over to the youngster. "People might ask questions if they knew the truth, you see." And finding his family is already going to be hard enough without half the city demanding to know what Azrael was thinking at sheltering and helping a Nephilim-child...

"Angels dun like Nephe... nepha... us? Is that why the others always tease me? Cause I looks like an angel?" The blue eyes stared saddened at the Archangel.

"That is pretty much the case, yes." Azrael nodded lightly, pushing the plate a bit closer to the child.

Grabbing the plate, the boy picked up one of the sandwiches but put it down again. "Do you think that is why brothers and sister didn't get me yet? I look too much like..." Tears began to well up from the corners of his eyes.

"I am certain they are very busy looking for you." Azrael assured him. "It's just that there are many planets in this... universe and they might not have looked on the right ones yet." Nor would they think of looking for you here, he added in thought.

With a sniffle and a faint 'okay', Zeruch picked up his food again and put it in his mouth. While chewing on it, he could still feel the tears coming from his eyes. Lifting up his left arm, he tried to wipe them away with his sleeve.

"C'mere..." The angel lifted him up, setting the boy down on his lap and using his own hands to wipe the tears away. "There, there, I am sure you'll see them again." He carefully hugged him close. "Tomorrow morning, I'll send a letter to a friend of mine and ask him if he knows where they might be, okay?"

Zeruch nodded and hugged him back with one arm, eating the sandwich slowly. Once he finished eating it, he felt really tired.

Gently lifting the Nephilim, Azrael carried him to his bed, tucking the little child in. He looked downright tiny in the Archangel's massive bed.

"Abaddon will have a heart-attack, that is for certain." The scholar rolled his eyes as he sat down on the edge of the bed. His friend certainly knew how to blow things completely out of proportion at times.


	6. Chapter 5

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 5**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You really need some more clothes." Azrael told Zeruch during breakfast the next day. The poor child looked completely blown away at the sheer variety of food the angel's cook had placed on the table. He chuckled a bit at the boy half-hiding in the fluffy bath-robe still.

"New clothes?" The boy asked in a distracted voice. It was so much! Many plates filled with different kinds of food; many of which he never even knew existed.

"I think it would look strange if you kept running around in the robe." Azrael rolled his eyes at the cook. "And please stop, Damiana, you are overwhelming the poor boy." He added with a dry look at the mountains of food on his table. "Abaddon is not going to come today, you remember that, don't you?"

"The poor child needs to eat!" The white-dressed female countered, somehow managing to find a spot for the plate of cookies. "He looks downright scrawny!"

"I-I dunno what to eats." The young Nephilim looked at both Azrael and Damiana, silently asking for help. "It so much. Never see so much food at brothers and sister."

"See?" Azrael pointed out. "Now shooo, dear, how about you go make some cookies for after dinner?" He snorted lightly when she promptly turned on her heel and muttered something about 'poor'. "Well, then let's find you something to eat, shall we?" He smiled at Zeruch, getting up from his seat to walk to the child. "What else did you eat at your siblings' aside from meat?"

"Uhm meat? And if there wasses no meat, plants. Nobody likes the plants. They are blah." Scrunching up his nose to indicate his disgust, Zeruch continued. "Sometimes fruits, if Eldest gets some. They is sweet and yummy!" He grinned at the memories getting small berries from his eldest brother.

"Well, then I guess you'd like this." Azrael reached over, making a sandwich with jam. "Try it." A smile formed on his lips at the reaction of the child to the food. Chewing enthusiastic, Zeruch then tried to shove the whole sandwich in to his mouth.

The Archangel chuckled, deciding to let the boy do as he wished for now. No need to change him. "Easy there, it won't run away." He gently said as he made a few more sandwiches for the child before returning to his seat to eat himself.

Still eating in a rapid pace Zeruch managed to slow down, though just slightly. A few moments and an empty plate later, he sighed in delight. Noticing that his hands were under the sweet spread, he tried to lick his fingers clean, but made an even greater mess on his face.

"C'mere." Azrael got up and lead the boy to the nearest sink. "Let's go shopping, shall we?" He asked after dressing the child in his old clothes – washed and fixed – and untangled the long hair again.

"Shopping? You dun make them?" Zeruch asked the Archangel while tugging at his clothes, looking at the fixed areas of his tunic. "Can't you magiced it, like the white fire?"

"Oh Heaven no, I am a scholar, not a tailor." Azrael chuckled, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Which is also why I don't 'magic' it. It's quite hard to get them to fit right. Besides, you can't pass up seeing the White City now that you are here." He headed for the door on street-level. "Do stay close though, I wouldn't want you to get lost."

Zeruch held on tightly to the back of Azrael's robes as they walked through the city. He felt small and tiny between all the tall buildings and angels flying overhead. Pressing himself against his saviour, the Nephilim child whimpered softly. "They is too high..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What do you mean 'you cannot leave'!?" The pale-skinned male was frantic. "Absalom, the demons took my youngest! I cannot let them just... _keep_ him."

"And you will just carve your way through them, I suppose?" Absalom countered, being this close to throttling his second-in-command. "It's a five-year-old brat in the entirety of Hell, Death..."

"It is my five-year-old brat still." The smaller Nephilim snarled, orange eyes burning with rage. "And my first-raised brat. You saw what they did to Strife! Am I supposed to let that slide?"

"You will not leave this camp, Death, not now and certainly not to go incite the demons to even more slaughter. This was just a rogue faction, but what if you have to go beat around Samael's – or heck, the Dark Prince's – bushes to find that thing?" The taller male growled, a mere breath between their two bodies.

"He is not a thing!" Death roared. "He is my brother!"

The hit got him under his chin – surprisingly enough considering their size-differences – and lifted him clear of his feet. It had got to have been three metres before he touched down again, cracking the dried soil with the impact of his body.

A hand capable of crushing a demon's skull closed around his neck. "You are mine." Lilith's son snarled, tightening his hold. "And nothing of mine leaves this camp."


	7. Chapter 6

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 6**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Stay near me." Azrael warned the young child, despite not needing to have bothered since the boy had seemingly almost fused to his legs. The young boy clutched tightly onto the angel's robe; everything was strange, so bright and... white. The buildings were the highest and the sparkliest things he had ever seen. Terrified to lose his rescuer from his sight and become lost in this alien place, he held onto the blue fabric as if his life depended on it. All the other angels looked scary too.

Chuckling softly, the Archangel patted the boy's head as they walked through the White City. At least he lived near the inner city and they would be back home soon. "Something different from camp, I take it?" He softly asked, wings held high behind him. The child nodded in silence.

"Azrael." A booming voice sounded from above. When he looked up his eyes widened even more: floating near them he saw a very muscular angel. Broad and powerful wings moved behind the man and the stern face looked down at the slender angel walking on the street. With mighty swoop, the tall man landed near them and walked with confident tread towards them. "I haven't seen you for awhile, old friend." Zeruch tried to make himself small and hid behind Azrael's robes. The man with the mighty voice was scary!

"Abaddon." The mystic returned the greeting, stopping in his walk to the city. "Indeed it has, old friend." He smiled gently, not removing his hand from Zeruch's head as he felt the child almost burrow into his clothes. Well... Abaddon could be terrifying, he had to give the Nephilim that. "Done with scaring recruits for the day?"

"Yes, unfortunately. Just collected the new reports from the outposts. The demons have suddenly become very active the last few days." The General informed the First Mystic, his face becoming grim at mentioning their enemies. "Those bloody..." It was only then he noticed small hands clutching the other's robes. "Uhm Azrael, who's that child?"

"Ah..." Azrael gently pushed Zeruch forward a bit, though not so far that the child needed to break contact with his robes. "This is Zeruch. I found him and am taking care of him until I can find his family. Zeruch, this is Abaddon, a dear friend of mine." He caressed the platinum hair of the boy soothingly. "He might look scary, but he is quite nice when you get down to it."

With a small and shy 'Hello', the young boy couldn't help but to stare at the large and bulky male. It was clear that the large angel was a fighter; the child had seen enough battle-scars on his own siblings and other Nephilim warriors to recognise them.

Abaddon took a step backwards and kneeled down so he wouldn't loom over the nervous child. "Hello Zeruch. " His stern face smiled gently at the child.

Trusting his savior's word and at seeing the warrior no longer towering over him, Zeruch inched closer to the General. "You fights demons?"

"Sometimes a bit too eagerly." The male whose clothes he was holding smiled teasingly at the General as he spoke. "Warmongering warrior that he is." The scholar added with a gentle chuckle.

"All for the protection of the White City, Azrael." Abaddon grinned back at the scholar.

"I wanna be big and strong so I cans protect family from demons. " Zeruch declared, his nervousness nearly completely forgotten. His blue eyes burned in determination and his young face hardened.

Abaddon become serious again and he looked at the child intently. "Did demons hurt your family?"

"They took him from his family to become a slave." Azrael darkly answered his friend, looking down at the boy at his side. "At least one of his siblings is probably dead." He gently caressed the child's head comfortingly.

At the mentioning of his brother, Zeruch pressed his face into the blue robes beside him. He tried hard not to cry about his brother again.

Abaddon's lips set into a dark grimace at what Azrael just revealed and the reaction of the child. It also didn't escape his attention that the boy lacked a pair of wings. It was not too hard to conclude what had happened to them. "Don't worry, Zeruch. We will try our best to find your family again." He stood up and looked at Azrael. "Is there any help I can provide you two? Don't hesitate to ask."

Leaning down, the mystic carefully lifted the boy into his arms. "I will, don't worry." He kept using one hand to caress the child's head. "The problem is that Zeruch does not recall where he lived, so I intend to send messengers to all outposts we have with a query if someone misses a child or whole family." Granted, he knew that they'd come up empty, but he had to keep up appearances. "But I shan't keep you from your duties. Though you are welcome to join us if you wish to procrastinate again."

"If it's not too much of a bother, I'll visit you in the evening. I can't delay much longer from my station." After saying his goodbyes to Azrael and Zeruch, the General flew off again.

A muffled sniff and "I miss my brothers and sister" could be heard from Zeruch, while he embraced the First mystic around his shoulders.

"I can imagine." Azrael started walking again. "I will do my very best at finding them, but... the Nephilim hide themselves well, I am afraid."


	8. Chapter 7

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 7**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Three outfits, one set of boots and a nightrobe later the angel and his Nephilim-ward returned to his home. The Archangel had called down a scholar they had seen overhead, ordering the younger male to send missives to all outposts.

"I still duns understand why I needs this many..." Zeruch looked at the bag levitating after the angel.

"Appearances." Azrael assured him, opening the door to let the child enter first. "Who knows how long you have to stay here."

"But... three pair of clothes isses for months!" The boy's eyes grew big and dewy. "You thinks I is stays for months!?"

"Of course not." The angel quickly soothed the child. "But angels wear a different outfit each day."

"Really?" The white-haired child squeeked softly.

"Really." Waving over one of his servants, Azrael handed the clothes to the young female. "Come, do you like drawing?"

Following the elder male, Zeruch softly asked. "Whazzat?"

Azrael looked down at him in answer. Well, what had he expected? Nephilim didn't even name their children, so it should not come as a surprise that they did not entertain them either. "I'll show you."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He looked up briefly from his writings. Zeruch was sitting quietly a corner of the scholar's home-office, working feverishly on a drawing in front of him. It had only taken the boy a short while to figure out the mechanics of 'drawing'. Most of them. Azrael had to resist a chuckle at the veritable kaleidoscope of colors that not only covered the drawing – as they should – but also the boy – as they should not. "How is it going?"

"Nearly done." Well, he had heard that three times already. He wasn't even sure if the boy was really listening to him.

Halfway through the next chapter, Azrael felt something pull on his robes.

Shyly, Zeruch held up a drawing. "Draw siblings."

"Oh?" Azrael took it gently, spreading it out on his desk before lifting up the boy to sit on his lap. "So who is who?"

There were four stick-figures and a big brown square on the picture.

"Thas Big Bro…" Zeruch pointed at a blue figure which seemed to hold a grey L-shape and had vibrant orange eyes and pitch-black hair. "Thas Sis…" A light orange figure with yellow eyes and purple hair, wielding what seemed a long pink line winding through the rest of the picture. "That… Stwife." The figure was dark-grey with some black strewn in, also with yellow eyes. Most disturbingly though, a sea of red surrounding him.

"That was… your brother that…?" Azrael did not need to wait for an answer, big tears forming in the boy's eyes.

For the next hour, Azrael was consoling the child. When Zeruch had calmed down some again, the angel took him for a bath – "again?" – and dressed him in some of the clothes they had bought.

"I looks weird." The Archangel stood in front of a mirror with the freshly-dressed child. Zeruch looked at the image with big blue eyes, fidgeting in the red outfit.

"You look just like an angelic child now." The mystic patted his head comfortingly. "Red suits you though."

The child pulled at the silken fabric. "Feels weird."

"I can imagine." Azrael chuckled gently, shepherding him out of the room. "Don't worry, if all goes well you don't need to get used to it."

"You sends letter?" The blue-eyed boy followed the angel down the stairs to the eating-room.

"Yup." The scholar looked up when hearing a door open. "Abaddon, stop just walking into my home."

The general merely chuckled, closing the door behind him. "It's not the first time I do it."

"Not the first time I tell you to not do it either." The smaller male frowned. "I know you are my friend, but leave me my privacy!"

"I could say something now." Abaddon flatly looked at him. He grinned a bit at the giggle coming from the height of Azrael's thigh. "Hello Zeruch."

"Hi…" One hand was still firmly clutching his warden's robes, but the other waved shyly at the taller angel.


	9. Chapter 8

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 8**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Abaddon chuckled at seeing the boy eat like he wouldn't be getting anything the rest of the week. "Can I speak to you after dinner about that letter you send me yesterday, Azrael?"

"Certainly." The scholar was likewise amused, though also worried. How did Nephilim feed their children if a roughly five-year old packed as much as an angelic warrior? "Zeruch, slow down a bit, will you? There is plenty."

"Sowwy." The boy slowed down obediently. His face and hands were a complete mess... again.

"Been a while since you had a good meal?" The General smirked lightly. "Though normally one uses one's utensils for eating." He waved his fork lightly.

"Let the poor boy." The Scholar was quick to come to his ward's rescue. "Let us be glad he still knows how to chew. I doubt demons feed their prisoners properly."

Zeruch ducked his head at that, looking at the utensils beside his plate. Hesitantly, he picked up the fork, stabbing his next bite with it. Angels were weird...

"See?" Azrael pointed out.

"Alright, alright." Abaddon raised his hands in a placating gesture. "You're the all-knowing scholar, remember?"

"In comparison with you, that is not hard." The rune-winged angel's statement was accentuated with a snorted giggle from the far end of the table, Zeruch smothering his laughter in his hand.

"Ares you married? When Stwife and Sis argues Eldest says they's married." The boy tilted his head in confusion when Abaddon spit his food halfway across the table.

"No, we are not." Throwing a glare at his guest, Azrael made the spilled food disappear with a wave of his hand. "Just friends."

In answer, the warrior muttered something under his breath, making the scholar whack him with his wing and send another glare in his direction. It promptly sent the boy into another fit of giggles.

"Anyway, not married." Azrael stated again. "I think I'd do something decidedly un-angelic if I ended up with this..." He waved a hand in Abaddon's general direction. "for the rest of eternity."

"You have yet to complain." The broader male countered. Within moments, the two were bickering.

"Don't worry, they do that all the time." A warm female's voice told the now slightly worried child. "The Lords cannot be around each other for longer than an hour before they start arguing about something." Damiana leaned down beside him, exchanging an empty pot for a full one. "In fact, one has to be worried if they don't argue." She added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Zeruch giggled again, fuzzing a bit when the matronly angel cleaned his face and hands with a wet towel.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Now what did you want to speak with me about?" Azrael sat down on one of his lounges, inviting the general to sit down opposite him. Damiana had taken the young boy under her wing and was currently teaching him how cookies were made.

"Why the Hell do you want to know where the Nephilim are?" Taking the glasses of wine, Abaddon took the invitation.

"They grow bolder each passing year." The scholar took the proffered glass. Thank the Creator he was quite adept at rationalizing just about everything if it suited his needs. "How long before they will attack one of the Kingdoms, Abaddon? How long before they come here?"

"They would not dare." The proud General seemed almost offended at the notion.

"I am sure several other worlds thought likewise." Sipping at his wine, the mystic leaned back a bit. "Well…?"

"They conquering a planet, but they abandoned it in haste halfway through their slaughter." Pride not-withstanding, Abaddon was always willing to help. "From what the inhabitants could gather, there was a large-scale demon-assault. There are corpses just about everywhere on there."

The face Azrael made could either have been distaste at the demonic involvement… or at the fact that if the Nephilim had gone into hiding, there was no way he could return Zeruch to his family.

"I don't like demons, but whatever they did, it was darn effective." The broad male continued. "And it'll keep their eyes off us, for certain."

"Yes…"

They both were interrupted when Zeruch ran into the room, holding a plate above his head. Somehow, he managed not to drop a single cookie on it. "Mades these." He offered them to the two males, who both obediently took one.


	10. Chapter 9

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 9**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Nomming happily on his cookie, Zeruch didn't immediately notice the sad look of the Archangel. He felt proud of himself that he managed to help the cook to bake cookies. To make it even better they were very tasty!

Sighing softly at his bad luck, Azrael rose from his seat as he finished his cookie - which was surprisingly good. "Abaddon, if you will excuse me for a moment, my young guest ought to go to bed now." He offered his hand to the boy sitting in front of the couch.

"Aww, really?" The child looked up, silently begging to be allowed to stay up a little more, while reaching out to grab the offered hand.

"Yes, really." The rune-winged angel headed for the door. "It is quite late." He smiled briefly at the General before heading up the stairs in his house for one of his guestrooms.

Following the angel, Zeruch protested: "But I is not *yawn* tireds." After that yawn, the boy began to rub his eyes with his free hand.

"Of course you are not..." The elder male chuckled softly, opening the door to a freshly prepared bedroom. The sleeping-robe they had purchased earlier was waiting neatly folded on the bed.

Letting the angel dress him in the sleeping-robe, Zeruch tried once more. "But I wanna stays up..." He felt somewhat intimidated by the largeness of the room: a large bed that was filled many soft pillows and sheets dominated the room. He was sure he would get lost in them. Last night he had been too exhausted to worry about it and he had also slept in the Archangel's bedroom with the presence of the angel.

"You're yawning already." Azrael pointed out, lifting him onto the bed. "Try to get some sleep. If you really can't sleep here, come to me and you can sleep in my bed again." He tucked the boy into the pillows and blankets. Briefly hesitating, he in the end leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to the frowny forehead. "Goodnight."

"Night." Zeruch whispered back. Once the angel left, he tried without success to fall asleep. Everything was too strange and he wasn't used to sleeping in a bed. At the camp, he also never slept alone. He missed the shared warmth of his siblings and comforting sounds of their breathing. His eyes began to fill up tears. He wanted to go back home, to his family!

Sniffling, he rolled onto his side to look outside the window. There was just too much space! He pulled one of the pillows close, but it was just not the same to having someone else in bed with him.

After what felt like hours, but actually had only been a few minutes, he heard the adults whispering while they walked past his closed door. With another sniff, he wiped his eyes dry.

The moment the young Nephilim couldn't hear them anymore, he decided to look for them. He couldn't stand to be alone anymore in this far too big of a room and bed and everything... Once he arrived at the door he remembered to be the angel's bedroom, he knocked shyly on it. Azrael did say he could visit him. He heard soft talking before someone walked over.

"Yes?" Azrael opened the door, having already dressed down to a pair of leggings and a long tunic.

"Can... Can I stays with you? Room too big." Zeruch fidgeted at the door, feeling insecure asking about it. "I…"

"Of course." The angel opened the door wider, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the bed. "Do you require assistance?"

Zeruch peered inside the room and blinked at the warrior sitting up. "Oh, you stays in Azrael's room too!" More confident now since he wasn't the only one sleeping at Azrael's, he headed inside to sit beside Abaddon. "Is your room too big too?" He asked the tall warrior innocently.

"Well..."

"It's more nice to sleep with mores than alones." Zeruch babbled while leaning against the warrior.

Abaddon replied with a sigh. "That is true, young one." Reaching up to remove the rest of his armour, he threw a glance at the scholar. "Could you lend me a hand, Azrael?"

"Certainly." The scholar closed the door again and moved over to help the warrior divest his armour. He had to suppress a chuckle at the way the boy had innocently hit the nail square on the head.

Once both adults were lying in bed, Zeruch snuggled happy as a kitten between them. He barely managed to say goodnight before he was off to dreamland.

"He is very adorable, isn't he?" Abaddon remarked while giving the boy a last rub on the head. "Shame he had to experience so much in his short life."

"Indeed." Azrael reached to wrap his arms around the little boy. "So... Is your room too big too?" He chuckled lightly as he shifted his wings into a more comfortable position behind him.

Joining Azrael in chuckling softly, Abaddon replied mirthfully. "Not exactly but it is nice to have company while going to sleep."

The scholar quieted down so as to not disturb the boy sleeping between them. "Well, good night then, old friend."

"Goodnight, old friend."


	11. Chapter 10

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 10**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Abaddon was gone before Zeruch woke up, returning to his duties early. Azrael would have done the same, but the boy was clinging to him with such fervour he did not have the heart to wake him up. When Damiana came to inform whether he was ill, the scholar asked her to send word to the Argent Spire he would be working home for the time-being and to send his work and the people he had meeting scheduled with over.

That had been an hour ago and the little child still showed no signs of waking up.

"Zeruch?" The angel carefully shook the small form tucked against his chest. "Wake up."

"Mmmhhh... dun wanna..." Came the muffled answer as the boy burrowed even deeper into the angelic flesh. "Comfy..."

"Well, I heard that before." Now he did get up, making Zeruch flop onto the mattress and blankets. The boy pouted, rubbing his shining blue eyes. His hair was a mess and he yawned again. "How long did you get to sleep at the camp?"

"They throws me out at suns..." Zeruch yawned again, stretching a bit. "Some time rolls me out of bed."

"I can do that too?" The mystic chuckled at the wide blue eyes. "Come, up and at them. I need to get some work done."

"I cans draw with you again?" The young nephilim beamed up at him.

"Not this time, I am afraid." Azrael hoisted him out of bed. "I'll need the room for myself."

The pout was even bigger than before.

"You can still draw, just not with me." The Archangel smiled apologetically at the child. "I am a busy man."

"Like Eldest?" Zeruch allowed him to dress him up in a deep-blue outfit.

"I guess." While combing the long hair, someone knocked on the door.

"There are guests waiting for you." A young female told the scholar with a bow.

"Ah, yes." Azrael got up from his seat. "Be a dear and watch Zeruch for me, yes?"

"Of course." She bowed again, offering her hand to the young boy. "Will you come with me, Zeruch? We'll get you something to eat from the kitchen."

After a hesitant glance at the angel beside him, the boy shyly took her hand and followed her outside.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What are you carving?" The only female of the siblings asked her elder. He had been working on it since the last day.

Wordlessly, he showed it to her. It was a piece of bone, probably a hip-bone of a demon, which he had been carving into a mask.

"A mask? Why?" She brushed her fingers over it, tracing the carved features.

"So I do not forget." He tried it on, but found something lacking as he immediately took it off and started working again. "I was careless. I failed."

"It wasn't your fault." She countered, ignoring the boiling broth she was standing next to. "Something like this never happened before."

"I was worried about _Absalom_." The elder snarled. "Instead of being worried about Strife and the child! And look what it got me... I lost them both."

"Not in that tone!" She hissed, looking at the entrance of their tent in worry. "Someone might overhear."

"They're too busy listening to him and his talk of revenge." The male waved her away. "Why do you think he brought us here? To _Hell_?" He snarled, ramming the blade he was using for the carving into the ground. "Idiot... Fool... Madman. We can do _his_ revenge-schemes, but if I want to do something..."

"Brother." Her lip was trembling as she warned him again.


	12. Chapter 11

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 11**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Azrael looked out of the window down onto the small courtyard his house had. The little Nephilim he had taken in was playing there, climbing all over one of the golden trees that were planted there. The young female he had assigned to watch over the boy when he himself could not was watching with an indulgent smile. She was probably relieved that the boy was still calmer than most other children his age. Azrael meanwhile was worried...

In the beginning, the boy had been shy and withdrawn. No matter how long he had to keep himself entertained, he still found things to do. And no matter where he was, he didn't stray far from his caretaker. At first, the scholar assumed it was the trauma of what happened, but then he realized it was simply the nature of Nephilim children. A nature this Nephilim was in the progress of losing... Heaven help him, just a few days ago the boy had climbed a massive Construct when Azrael and Abaddon had travelled to the Makers for business! The mystic still shuddered a bit at the memory of seeing the little boy nearly at the top of the stone construct.

The angel turned away from the window, sighing as he sat down on the chair behind his desk. To make matters worse, the Nephilim were still nowhere to be found. Sighing again, he got up again. No use in delaying the inevitable...

"Zeruch?" The Archangel called out when entering his courtyard. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" He couldn't prevent a small smirk when seeing the little boy peek out from the golden leaves of the tree.

"Wassit?" Zeruch clambered down to the ground, bouncing over to the elder male.

"In private." Resting his hand on the boy's shoulder, Azrael guided him back to the office. "How do you like it here?" He asked as they sat down on a low couch in there.

"Is nice." The child beamed, basking in the attention and food he received. "Why?"

"I have some bad news." The angel flinched when seeing the Nephilim's face fall in. "I think you won't be going back to your siblings for... a very long time."

"Wha...!? Why!?" He thanked the Creator that the child was still rather quiet, otherwise half the block would have heard him.

"A variety of reasons." The scholar still had to pull his ward back down onto the couch. "Most importantly, the fact that we are just not _finding_ them..." He felt the small arm shiver in his hand. "Secondly... tell me, do you still act like a Nephilim child would?"

Zeruch opened his mouth, only to close it. "They'd hates me? Cause I acts different now?"

"Not your siblings." Azrael assured him, caressing his arm comfortingly. "But the others would..."

"But... but... I wants my siblings!" Zeruch whimpered, wide blue eyes looking at the angel. "I _wants_ to go home!"

"I know." The scholar murmured, not letting go of the arm. "But you can't anymore."

Zeruch's lower lip started wibbling and his eyes filled with tears. Within moments, the little boy was bawling.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Death was frustrated. He had left the camp – despite Abaddon's threats – and been visiting various merchants to see if he could track down his youngest brother... No luck.

"Will you please stop risking _our lives_?" Fury demanded when he returned from his twelfth sojourn. "Absalom will notice sooner or later, you are his second-in-command!"

"I am not going to sit back while demons do Creator-knows-what to the child." The Firstborn snarled back at her. "He looks like a bloody angel, you just know what they do to one that is extra-resilient."

"I don't want to know." The pale-skinned female countered sharply. "What I do want to know is when you will stop risking everything for him! What use is finding him going to be when we are dead!?"

"Then help me look, so we can find him before Absalom finds out." Death countered coldly.

"And who looks after Strife!?" His sister barely remembered to keep her voice down as she gestured to the half-dead warrior to the side.

"He's dead anyway." Orange eyes narrowed. "He got run through with a demonic sword. Quite frankly, I am surprised he made it this long."

She blinked once, twice... and punched her elder. "Are you insane!? I am just as upset about the child as you are, but Strife is your first-raised! You can damn well care about him still too! No matter how annoying he got... or how close he is to kicking it..." She added in a slight whimper.

In front of her, Death was staring ahead into space. "I... I didn't mean..." He looked at the nearly dead male to his side. "He... The child..."


	13. Chapter 12

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 12**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The child was inconsolable for days after that. Azrael explained it away by telling those that asked that the missives from the outposts had returned: no one knew anything of a family missing a child. The others expressed their grief at the poor boy having lost everything and pried no further.

At the end of the week, Abaddon visited again. "How is he?" They watched the boy sit in the garden, hugging a bird-plushie he had gotten a few weeks ago from Nathaniel.

"Devastated." Azrael's lips were a thin line. "And I am unsure how to cheer him up."

"I might have something?" The General gently smiled, which was a strange expression on his face for sure. "Or at least it'll give him a temporary boost?"

"Oh?" The scholar looked at him.

"The Ortho's." The warrior headed outside to the boy. "You know how those beasts can get."

"I know how they get when they see my wings." The scholar made a face. For some reason, the massive creatures the Hellguard used in combat did not at all like the glowing runes the mystic had on several of his primary-feathers. "As you well know."

"I can take him if you will let me?" Abaddon chuckled lightly. "So they don't attack your feathers again."

"Well, for once I do not have a better idea." Azrael sighed softly. "Do watch over him though."

"Of course." The armoured male headed out into the garden, sitting down beside Zeruch. "How are you?" He gently pushed the hair away from the puffy face.

"I wants to go home." Zeruch sniffled. "I wants my siblings." His voice was a mere sad squeak when he looked up at the General.

"Well, that sadly won't happen." Abaddon slung an arm around the tiny form. "I'm sorry."

The boy sniffed again. "Azrael told me I could stays with him."

"That's nice." The adult male patted his head gently. "You feeling up to heading out with me?"

"The barracks?" The child rubbed his eyes.

"Something near it, at least." The warrior got up, offering his hand.

"Kay..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"There we are." Abaddon touched down near the barracks.

"Why's Azrael not coming?" Zeruch asked when he was set down gently on the ground. With one hand he held onto the General while the other clutched his toy.

"Because I am introducing you to someone who's... a touch iffy about him." The angel chuckled, leading him to a series of low buildings opposite of the barracks. "They don't like his wings."

"But they's pretty." The nephilim obediently followed him. "Why duns they like them?"

"The shiny." Abaddon snorted, opening a door. "Zeruch, let me introduce you to the steeds of the Hellguard."

The boy's blue eyes widened when he saw where the elder had lead him. Massive, griffin-like creatures stood in pens, some of them looking up as the doors opened.

"Heyyel!" Abaddon called out, heading inside.

"My lord." A male angel touched down in front of them, bowing lightly. "What can I assist you with?"

"Perhaps you heard... the last developments of Azrael's ward?" The General gestured down to the boy clinging to him. "I thought he might be cheered up with some Ortho's."

"Ah, of course." Heyyel smiled down at the child. "Would you like that?"

"They's big..." Zeruch scooted behind Abaddon.

"But really friendly." The Ortho-caretaker assured him, holding out his hand. "I think you'd like Mertha, she loves kids."

Shyly, the boy scooted forward again, much to the two adults amusement and stepped up to Heyyel. Both his hands firmly held his birdie.

"This way." Unlike most of the other angels in the city, Heyyel wore neither armour or robes, but pants and a tunic. He opened a pen near the end of the building, ushering in the child. "This is Mertha."

The female Ortho in the pen was smaller than the others, having dark-grey spots on her feathers. She screeched lightly, causing Zeruch to jump back towards Abaddon who was in the pen-opening. The warrior chuckled lightly, patting his head.

Realising she had scared her little visitor, the Ortho was much more hesitant to approach.

"Why don't you pet her?" The boy looked up with wide eyes at the suggestion, but reached out with a shivering hand. The other seemed to use his plushie to hide behind. He giggled a bit when feeling the soft feathers under his hand as Mertha pushed her head against it.

"Well, this seems to be working..." Abaddon chuckled softly, leaning against the wall. He gestured Heyyel away as Zeruch petted the Ortho with fervor.


	14. Chapter 13

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 13**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A couple days after the visit to the Ortho's – which had perked up the boy massively – Azrael decided to start teaching him angelic script and other things. It had been a while since he had taught anyone, but it was a welcome respite from all his work in the Argent Spire and the Well of Souls.

"This isses hard." Zeruch pouted at the letters on the paper in front of him. "Do I has to learn this?"

"I am afraid yes." Azrael chuckled lightly, patting his head. "It's not that hard once you get it."

"But it hards!" The boy exclaimed, pout increasing.

"Try again." The angel countered. "I promise you that when you got the syllables, the words are easy."

"... okay" Zeruch looked at the sheet of paper. Taking a deep breath, he started to try and read the forms Azrael had written down for him. It went more or less okay for a beginner. At some point, the child looked up at his teacher. "What else do I has to learns?"

"Math, for now." Said teacher smiled at him lightly. "Later come the sciences, though that is a couple years away still, depending on how quickly you take this up."

"Soooo... if I is slows, i needs to do less?" Bright-blue eyes grew hopeful at that thought.

"No, then it's just going to take longer." Why did all children always ask that? "Have your siblings taught you how to count yet?"

"Uhm..." Zeruch tilted his head, looking at his fingers. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5... 6, 7..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You seem happier." Abaddon had taken Zeruch to the barracks again, since Azrael had to do his 'Well of Soul check-up', as the General called it.

"I still miss siblings..." The boy's face fell. "But I can't changes it, can I?"

"No..." The General ruffled his hair. "Don't be ashamed to come cry with me, if you need."

The child nodded, trying to de-ruffle his hair with his free hand. "So what ares you going to do today?"

"Scaring recruits." The angel briefly pulled a scary face while he was certain that no one else was looking. "Start teaching them the basics. Want to join in?"

"Cans I!?" Zeruch started to beam, bouncing a couple steps.

"I don't see why not for a bit." Abaddon measured the boy beside him. After a couple months of Damiana's excellent cooking he had filled out nicely, gaining quite some muscle that was uncommon for other children his age. Probably because he could not fly since his wings were cut off and therefore he had to climb and walk everywhere... He could perhaps give him one of the lightest category of training-swords. The Elder angel had to suppress a snarl at the sheer cruelty of the demons as he thought about that. Cutting off the wings of a child! No wonder the boy had been so traumatized by it all.

"Greetings General." Several warriors greeted their superior when he arrived with the child in tow. Then – completely against protocol, but condoned for now – they waved happily at Zeruch. The child had quickly become the favourite of quite some warriors and scholars whenever either Azrael or Abaddon had to take him with them to work. Zeruch returned the wave with one of his own and a happy giggle.

Abaddon allowed himself a small smile at the scene. "Come along now. They have duties to attend to." He threw a glare at the warriors, who scurried to indeed return to those. "Let's pick up a sword then. You'll have to leave Avis in my office though." He gestured to the bird-plushie the boy was intend on carrying just about everywhere.

"Okay." The child nodded, before running off.

"He's returning to normal at least." The adult muttered as he watched his charge bounce up the stairs. "I knew that calm nature was too good to last." Shaking his head, he flew up to follow him. At least the boy could not fly up so high he was scared to get back down. Children...

"Puts it away." Looking over the child in the door-opening, Abaddon snorted a bit when seeing Avis sit proudly on his desk.

"So you did." He reached over to close the door. "Come along to the armoury then." Though he would have to ask one of the more mystically inclined to shrink one of the training-armours for the boy.

"Can I picks myself?" Zeruch skipped alongside the elder.

"Of those I show you, yes." He probably should not be that indulgent towards the child, but considering everything he saw nothing wrong with being a tad lenient. His mouth-corner quirked as red-dressed boy cheered. "Just don't tell Azrael about this."

"He dun like fighting?"

"Eh... Warriors and scholars..." Abaddon made a weighing motion with his hands. "Rocks and plants. We never really see eye to eye on these things."

"Oh..." Zeruch quieted down. "So he'd mind if I becames a warrior?"

"I am certain he would not." The other assured him as they entered the armoury and headed for the racks of training-weaponry. "You can pick of those."

"Ok..." The boy skipped over, pouting a bit as he surveyed the weapons. "None of my siblings used any of these..."

"But these are the starter-weapons." Abaddon shrugged lightly. "You can specialize later."

"Okay..." Looking back at the weapons the boy tilted his head, sticking out his tongue as he seemed deep in thought over his choice. "Can I takes that?" He pointed at one that was broader than the others and certainly heavier as well.

"Try it." To be honest, Abaddon was not sure if the child had taken a wise decision. It was one of those that bordered two different weight-categories.

Amazingly enough, Zeruch managed to lift and swing it. "Yay!" Though he did need both hands for that. "Wee!" He was dragged along by the weight, twirling around his own axis as he swung the ivory coloured sword.

"Easy there." The General caught the blunt wooden blade in his hand. "No need to rearrange the armoury just yet." Gently pulling it from the child's hands, he put it back in the rack. "For this time, you ought to take a lighter one though. No need to whack the recruits just yet either."


	15. Chapter 14

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 14**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"How go his lessons?" Abaddon had come over again, lounging on the garden-couch as he and Azrael watched Zeruch climb around in the trees of the scholar's home-mansion.

"He is catching up nicely." Said scholar nipped at his drink while going through several documents that had been brought from the Argent Spire. "He quite enjoys reading books now."

"Let me guess, you give him science-books?" The General chuckled, his own glass already half-empty.

"Fiction, actually." Azrael tried to whack his guest with a scroll playfully. "He is roughly five, Abaddon, and only learned to properly read during the last few months."

"Speaking of learning..." Abaddon snatched the scroll away when it got dangerously close. "I was considering enrolling Zeruch into the Special Classes."

"What..." The rune-winged male actually looked up from his documents now. "Abaddon, he has no wings, what makes you think he'd be suited for those!?"

"Just a hunch." Dropping the scroll back with the others, the warrior shrugged lightly. He had been consistently testing the boy ever after that first time he allowed him to join the beginner's classes – and made sure he had a sword he could actually _wield_ – and the child had been amazing.

"Abaddon..." Setting aside the paperwork, Azrael rounded on him like Zeruch would on a plate of unguarded cookies. "There are no hunches on such a thing... or at least you wouldn't suggest enrolling him on a 'hunch'." Eyes narrowed, he looked from the boy to his friend. "You tested him already, didn't you? You gave a five-year old a sword, didn't you? Is that why you suggested so often you could watch him?"

Backing off a bit at the tone of voice, Abaddon raised his hands. "Now let's be reasonable here, Azrael..."

"Says the one who makes a _five-year old _swing around a blade." The only thing that kept the scholar from raising the volume of his speech was the presence of his ward not a couple meters from him. "What were you thinking!?"

"I wanted to cheer him up a bit." Abaddon was now pressed against the armrest of the couch. "But he is talented, Azrael, he'd really benefit from those lessons!"

"Oh no." Runed wings spread behind him, the mystic shook his head. "He has had entirely enough stress already. There is no sane reason to add more by enrolling him into that program. I know those 'special classes'..."

"They are not that bad." The General countered. "A bit stressful, I grant you that, but they start slow."

"No, Abaddon." Azrael stated with finality. "If he wishes to become a warrior, he will enrol at the normal age of fifteen, no earlier."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Nonsense, Nathaniel." Abaddon passed through the White City with the other warrior beside him. "He'll need to get used to other kids again at some point. And Azrael agreed we best do it _before_ we enrol him in normal classes."

"Well, if Lord Azrael thinks it's alright." Nathaniel kept one eye on his flitting daughter, only to recoil somewhat at the glare his superior and friend gave him. "What?"

"'If Lord Azrael thinks it's alright'?" The General countered with a light growl. "Excuse me?"

"Hey, you might be a powerful warrior and great general, but this is your first kid – so to speak." The other chuckled. "Telling a _scholar_ to enrol a child early in warrior's training? Seriously?"

Abaddon made a face at that, but chuckled right along after a while. "You saw Zeruch, how could I pass up the opportunity!?"

"I am surprised he did not skin you for that." For a moment the bald warrior had to bank away, retrieving his wayward child. "Azrael is the epitome of 'non-warrior'." He added upon his return.

"Don't I know it." The General of the Hellguard lazily flapped his wings. "His face when I made the suggestion..."

"Speaking of which..." Nathaniel looked at the other with a faint grin as the young girl started performing loop-the-loops around the adults. "Considering you two are raising a child together now, what about...?"

"I am not going to marry him!" Abaddon exclaimed. "Creator, why does everyone want us to marry!?"

"I could list a couple reasons if my daughter was not in earshot." Came the answer. "Maybe when she is with Zeruch?"

"Oh, shut up."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Well, and then there was that time with that one Old One..."

"What did I tell you two hours ago?" Abaddon glared at the male sitting beside him. They were sitting in Azrael's living-room, looking outside to where the two children were playing somewhat.

"I am just pointing out why everyone thinks you and Azrael should tie the knot." Nathaniel countered, leaning forward and prodding his friend in the chest. "You nearly cleaved that Old One in half for flirting with Azrael."

"Of course I did!" Said friend slapped the prodding hand away. "I cannot just let everyone flirt with Azrael while he is on a diplomatic mission!"

"She lost her arm." The darker-skinned angel reminded him. "Azrael had to regenerate it."

"I told her to leave him alone but she didn't." The General defended himself. "It's not my fault."

"You overreacted."

"Did not."


	16. Chapter 15

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 15**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What, pray tell, are you two arguing about again?" A voice came from behind them. Azrael joined the two warriors in his living-room, looking outside to his ward. "Every time I see you it's the same story."

"Nathaniel has gotten into the habit of being silly." Abaddon darkly muttered, glaring at his inferior.

"Good Heavens, no." The bald angel chuckled lightly in response. "I am merely pointing out to Lord Abaddon that the entire City can see that you two should marry..."

"That... what...?" The face Azrael made could only be described as horrified disbelief. "Why would anyone think that!?"

"Because they are insane." His accused-husband-to-be snarled lightly. "Honestly, you have sex with a friend a couple times and immediately everyone expects you to marry."

"I think it was a couple more times than 'a couple times'." The other warrior countered dryly. "How long are you on this 'friends with benefits'-thing now?"

"I see where you are coming from." The scholar looked at the General beside him.

"Just wait until people find out that the arrangement with Zeruch with you two is going to be permanent."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"How was it?" Azrael looked down at Zeruch beside him as they waved farewell to the two warriors and Nathaniel's daughter Naya'il. "She was nice after all... Considering how much fun you had."

The little boy nodded with a wide grin, only to have it fall in after a bit. "I wants to fly."

"Mmmh?" Leading the child inside, Azrael headed for the living-room. "How come?"

"Well... she... she was just everywhere." Zeruch clambered onto the couch. "And.. and she hads so much fun!" Though there had also been the fact that the fluttery girl had on quite come occasions flown up high, only to remember he could not follow her. She had tried to remember, but angelic kids were just like bouncing balls on a perpetual sugar-high. He had felt so sad that he had made her stick to ground just to be able to play with him. Like plucking the feathers of a bird's wings like some of the other Nephilim-kids used to do back at camp.

"Well, I might be able to find a spell for that." Azrael looked thoughtfully into the distance. "Granted, I am not certain it will work on a Nephilim."

"You coulds?" The blue-eyed child looked up with a huge beam. "So I coulds fly?"

"If I can get it to work." The scholar nodded lightly. "But then again, if I cannot get it to work, no one can." Looking down at his excited ward, he smiled gently. "It will take some time though. Can you wait that long?"

Zeruch eagerly nodded. Only to hop off the couch when they heard someone knock at the front-door. "Az is gonna make me fly!"

"Is that so?" Abaddon's voice carried back into the room, shortly followed by the General himself as he hoisted Zeruch onto his hip. "Well, if anyone can give you back your wings, it's him, that is for certain."

The scholar inclined his head lightly with a small smirk. "I suppose I should thank you for the compliment."

"Common sense, more like." Sitting down on the chair that was all but his, the warrior plopped the child on his lap. "Only a fool would belittle your mystical acumen."

"Well, small mercies you are only warmongering then and not a fool." The smirk widened a touch as Zeruch snickered softly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I thought we weaned him of sleeping with us?" Abaddon looked down on the curled up form on his lap. As the two grown-ups had talked, the little boy had increasingly leaned to the side until he had actually fallen over, deeply asleep.

"Well, it was an exciting day." Azrael put the book down, pushing the parchment he had been writing on to the side to transport the sleeping ball to bed. "I'll be right back." He gently cradled the boy to his chest while disappearing in the hallway.

Zeruch squirmed a bit closer to the source of warmth beside him face, mumbling something.

Azrael had to admit he was a touch... happy that the Nephilim had disappeared so completely. He had come to cherish the child, even with the danger it still posed to itself and him. If anyone were to see the scar-less back, there would be serious trouble. After all, no angel in the history of Heaven had ever had No wings and no one would buy 'the demons used magic to remove them'. Sighing, the scholar almost expertly switched the dark-green outfit – now that had been a miss-buy if he had ever seen one, green absolutely did not suit the boy – with a fluffy sleeping-robe.

Tucking Avis under one arm, he carefully covered the little Nephilim with the warm blankets since Heaven cooled down fast after the light of day had faded.

"He's tucked away." Azrael announced when he returned to Abaddon's side, sitting back down in his 'nightmare of paperwork' as the General had called it. "It is late already."

"So it is..." The warrior looked up from the book he had been perusing himself. "Is that an invitation?"

"It's been months since you stayed on account of..." Azrael briefly gestured to the bedroom of his ward. "Normally, you are the one who starts complaining after half a year."

"This time there is a good reason though." The Leader of the Hellguard smirked a bit. "Though yes, I do quite miss our times together... even if the darned rest of Heaven wants us to marry over them." He added with a frown.


	17. Chapter 16

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 16**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"YAY" Zeruch was once again pushing the boundaries of what could be called 'safe', scaling the wall of the mystic's home. He was already half-way up...

Chased outside by Azrael for disturbing his research into re-growing wings, Abaddon looked up when he heard a youthful cheer above him. The moment he saw the boy scaling the walls, his pale eyes widened. "By The Creator! Zeruch! What are you doing!?"

"Climbing!" The boy called down, tongue sticking out between his lips as he looked for his next handhold. Frowning a bit, he started to stretch for a certain carving on the otherwise more or less smooth walls.

"Get down there in this instant! " Azrael would skin him alive if he found out. Not removing his intent gaze from the scholar's ward, he frowned in worry. "Wait; don't come down! I'll get you!" What was the child thinking!?

"But I wants to get to the top!" So much for the boy fearing heights like he had in the beginning when he had been in the City. Stretching to his limit, he managed to close his fingers around the chosen hand-hold... only to have his foot furthest from it slip.

Seeing the horrific development, the General yelled out a "Hang on!" while spreading out his broad white wings. "Don't let go!"

Zeruch tried to obey, but the sudden shift of weight was too much for his hands and he slipped completely free, falling down to the ground. "Meep!" He squeaked when he hit Abaddon's hands halfway to the ground. Rolling a bit down the armoured arms, he ended up upside down and held tightly against the warrior's chest. As the adrenaline wore off, he started giggling and squirming. "Again!"

Looking up at the sky, wondering if the Creator send this child to torture him, the General rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You have even less self preservation than an angry Nephilim."

Zeruch giggled, not even noticing the comparison while trying to get upright again. That didn't work so well since his belt – and thus, his tunic – got stuck against Abaddon's arms and both were being pushed up his back.

With an easy swoop, Abaddon landed back safely on the ground while the child was struggling to get upright. Trying to free the boy, he tutted: "Hold still! Your belt is stuck on my-" He froze at seeing a large portion of the child's back; which was smooth and unmarred, no scar tissues in sight. But how?

With a child's obliviousness, Zeruch kept squirming, getting increasingly annoyed at the upside-down-view of the world he was having. "Puts me down!" He demanded, trying to pull himself free.

With a jerk, Abaddon basically dropped the child on the ground by snapping the belt, though luckily for said child, he wasn't high above the grass floor. Taking a few steps away from the angelic boy, no the impostor, the alerted warrior stared at it. What is he?! Where did Azrael found it?! His mind working through the different possibilities of races this thing could be.

Zeruch squeaked in pain when he fell. Rubbing his head, he glared at the belt he believed to be responsible for the now appearing sore bump. "Stupid belt."

It was clearly not a demon or Maker. Then what... Pale eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Nephilim spawn." he breathed. It must be: why else would the scholar enquire a few times about them and it would also explain a few things about this... spawn's behaviour! Lips curled back in distaste.

Still rubbing his head, the young Nephilim turned to the warrior beside him. Big blue eyes looked up at the General, as he pointed at the belt. "Stupid belt broke..." Tears shimmered in his bright eyes.

"Really now? You wouldn't need to worry about it anymore." The tall warrior answered coolly. Gritting his teeth, the General steeled himself: he must destroy all taints from the First Kingdom. That was his duty. Even if said taints were looking at him with big blue eyes.

Not understanding, Zeruch kept rubbing his head. "But it hurtsed!" His voice fell when he looked at the belt. "Az is gones be mad that I brokes it, won't he?" Somehow, when he looked at Abaddon again the eyes were even bigger.

Seeing the big blue glassy eyes looking at him, the Leader of the Hellguard felt his resolve waver. No! He must do it! Mentally summoning his blade, he told the child: "Don't worry about it. I will deal with Azrael about that."


	18. Chapter 17

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery **

**Chapter:**** 17**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

**Author's note:**** This chapter is the fault of a certain someone that definitely knows who they are!**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Strife had died. Shuddering, Death looked at his first-raised. The sword-wound in the end had been too much for the Gunner and the Nephilim-healers. 'Quite frankly, I am surprised he made it this long.' Those had been his words... Well, the short-haired male heard them alright. And had decided to antagonize their speaker the only way he could.

"Damn. You." He wanted to pull the other male back, just to scream at him about how he'd dare die now... but he could not. It had been his own fault.

He managed to keep his tears in check, but beside him their sister did not have such self-control. Clutching her brother's hand, Fury was sobbing brokenly.

"You... you just couldn't resist... could you?" Death's mask creaked in his grip, the dried bone cracking under his grip. "The child was not enough loss for your taste, was it?" Hollow words, spoken in a desperate attempt to soothe the blooming pain in his heart.

He could not deal with this. Fleeing the tent, he marched out the encampment, up into the surrounding hills. Agony arched through his body with every step and in the end he could no longer move anymore. It hurt too much.

Briefly considering just screaming it all away, he finally decided to just collapse on the ground. His mask long lost, he moaned softly while curling up on the ground. Too much pain! It hurt too much!

All because he had been too blind to consider that Absalom could handle things himself. So focused on the survival of their leader, that he had forgotten his _children._.. in a certain meaning of the word, of course.

The realization what was probably happening to the small child, near-angelic as it was, was almost worse than the pain of losing his first-raised.

Dragging himself up to look at the camp briefly, he started walking again. Watching where he set his feet was a way to distract him after all. Counting rocks also helped...

Whimper...

Death froze, looking up properly now and one hand already on the hilt of Harvester.

Another whimper...

Something was moving...

A new agony bloomed in his mind: not his own, this time, but that of someone else. Sweet and yet so sharp.

Whatever it was, it had collapsed. He had heard the wet sound of it hitting the rocks.

Shuddering breaths, slowing down and coming harder each time.

Was that white hair?

Harvester fell down from lifeless hands. "No..." He had two brothers... and now he had none. The child was in front of him, a stab-wound almost eerily reminiscent of the one that had felled Strife after months of hoping for the opposite on his back. And probably his chest as well.

The weapon must have been huge! The little body had nearly been halved by it. Falling to his knees again, he carefully gathered the boy onto his lap. The light-blue eyes had dimmed to nothing.

"I'm sorry..." Was there no end to his suffering!? Death choked on something he could not name while trying to cover the wound with the remnants of the child's clothes.

"DEATH!" He lurched forward upon hearing Absalom's voice echo among the stone spires. Could he not even _mourn_ in peace!? "Death!"

Cradling his youngest, the Firstborn rose to his feet. "Here!" It would do him no good to antagonize the eldest of them all, after all.

Absolution appeared over the nearest ridge. Orange eyes widened when seeing it was covered in blood. Another attack!? No, he ought to have heard it, even with the destitution he felt.

Absalom followed his massive axe, glaring darkly at his second-in-command. "There you are." He was dragging something behind him. "What did I tell you!?"

"Absalom... I..." He felt like the ground disappeared beneath his feet when he saw what the massive male had been dragging all the way out here. Clutching long purple tresses, Lilith's son had killed Fury.

He lost his grip on the boy in his arms, his own breath rushing in his ears. No... no... he had obeyed, had he not? There was nothing that could warrant this.

The pale-skinned female was dropped, Absalom advancing quickly now while Death tried desperately to regain his footing.

Absolution's bite was like jumping into freezing waters. He could not breathe.

As he gave into his body's desire to cough, he could tell why: thick blood sprayed from his lips.

Only then did he realize that Absolution had nearly cleaved him in half.

Falling to the ground, he tried to crawl away. If he could just... just a few moments and his healing-ability would fix him... just a few moments.

Death was halfway over the child's cooling form when Absolution bit again, nailing him to the ground and no doubt finishing what the weapon that had killed the white-haired boy had not. He could feel the two halves of the child underneath him, the still warm blood mixing with his own.

A foot landed on his head and the nails studding the underside dug into his flesh.

He might have made a completely unbefitting sound as the pressure increased. At least, while he was still able to.


	19. Chapter 18

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****18**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Azrael was working on the collection of spells he'd need to grow wings. Even merely re-growing them would have been a formidable task, but growing wings where there had never been any? If this worked out, he'd declare it something of a small miracle.

His work was rudely interrupted when someone smashed open his door. Barely keeping his ink from spilling, he rose to his feet to demand an answer from whoever marched inside.

"Abaddon!" His voice was more a squeak when the General rounded the desk and yanked him to the nearest wall. "What in Heaven's name do you think you are doing!?"

Abaddon did not answer, pressing the scholar against the smooth rock. "What do you think you are doing?" The bulkier male snarled. "Have you gone insane?"

"What are you talking about?" Struggling against the fists clutching his clothes, he winced at the pain arching through his wings from the position.

"The Nephilim-child." The warrior growled. "What possessed you to bring one of those things into the City!?"

"I... what?" Paling Azrael's eyes flew over to the window. He had not heard anything. How had the General found out!?

"Tell me." Abaddon demanded, almost shaking his long-time friend.

"I had to." The scholar's throat was dry. "Did... what did you do to him?"

"You ought to have killed it." Letting go of the mystic, the taller male did not let him leave the wall. "It's a Nephilim."

"That looks like a little angelic boy." The Gatekeeper kept looking at the window. "What did you do to him!? Tell me you did not kill him!" He was starting to get panicked. The fact that no sound had reached his window meant little. No doubt Abaddon would be more than capable of killing the boy without the child even noticing. "Tell me!"

"It hardly matters at the moment." The taller male forced his slender friend to look back at him. "Why did you bring him here?"

"I could not leave him with the demons. He looks like a little angel! You know what they'd do with him." Azrael tried to free his face. "So did you hurt him or not!?" He demanded sharply.

"He's a Nephilim, you ought not to bother with him." Allowing the other male to get free, Abaddon darkly stated.

"That is not answering my question." The rune-winged male countered. "Abaddon, please!"

The taller male refused to answer, glaring at the mystic.

The question was answered when running feet sounded outside the room. "Az, Az!" Cradling something in his hands, Zeruch rushed into the room. "Bird hitted wall and won'ts move!" He held up a little ball of fluff.

Azrael nearly slumped with relief, reaching for the little animal. "He probably is just dizzy. Let me have a look." Throwing a grateful smile to the General of the Hellguard beside him, Azrael sat down on his chair again. "Perhaps you can find him something to rest on?"

Turning to Abaddon, Zeruch looked up with wide eyes. "Will you helps me?" He tugged on the cloth hanging down from the angel's waist.

The scholar smiled lightly when seeing the inward battle of the warrior. Sighing, Abaddon leaned down, pulling the child onto his arms. "Show me the way then."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Death did not shoot up, it was something entirely too undignified for him to do. But a shudder ran down his back when he woke up, drenched in sweat. He was grateful that Fury had gone on a raid.

Panting, he shot out of the furs, rushing over to the other side of the tent. Strife was still breathing... It had been merely been a nightmare.

Falling to his knees beside his eldest, he tried to control his ragged breathing. At least, for now it was. Covering his face with his hands, he shivered. He had been more or less getting over the loss of his youngest, but... what had happened to the child?

He had given up searching for the little one. In the end, Fury had been right: there was just no use to risking the lives of three for the life of one.


	20. Chapter 19

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****19**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Zeruch was meanwhile blissfully unaware of how close he had come to actually dying. He still adored Abaddon – well, rather: he worshipped Abaddon – which really made the General feel conflicted.

"You look almost constipated." Azrael pointed out, looking at the warrior opposite of him. Once again curled up on the General's lap was the little boy. This time, the young Nephilim had stolen Abaddon's fur to use as pillow. "You can just move him if you need to go to the toilet."

"That… is not the problem." Frowning, Abaddon was slowly petting the sleeping child. "And you know it."

Azrael chuckled. "You didn't mind before."

"That was before I knew what he was." The General leaned back a bit, looking at the boy on his lap. "Well, nothing much changed then, did it?" The scholar joined the other angel on the couch. Lifting the boy, he grinned when the child refused to let go of the fur. "He is still Zeruch, the little boy that hid under… both our robes at some point."

"It's a _Nephilim._" Abaddon snarled softly, at least remembering to lower his voice not to wake the boy.

"He is a child." The Gatekeeper countered, reaching for a blanket to wrap the boy into. "As you remembered when you decided not to stab him when you found out."

The warrior snorted lightly, looking away out of the window.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Ab?" Zeruch pulled on the cloth hanging down from the bulkier of his two caretakers. Azrael had insisted Abaddon watch the boy today as the Watcher once again had to attend his duties in the Well. And even if he could have, he was not about to bring a child there.

"Yes?" The warrior was slowly warming up to the boy again. Reluctantly, he had to admit Azrael had a point when stating that one could hardly blame the child for where he had been born. Besides, the boy still hid from strangers…

"Cans I play with sword again?" Holding Avis with one hand, Zeruch tried his best puppy-dog eyes.

It was quite effective, but so had been Azrael's threats if he let the boy touch a weapon again… "Alright, but don't tell Azrael." Though considering that mystic's uncanny ability to notice even a drop of guilt, that was probably useless regardless.

"Okay." The wide smile made the impending tirade seem worth it though. The young Nephilim slid his hand into the angel's, shifting the bird a bit.

"Come then." Abaddon rose from his seat, slowly heading outside. Plus, he got a break from the mountain of paperwork on his desk. For all his loyalty and devotion to the White City, there was simply too much paperwork involved in keeping it safe. Maybe he should pass some on to his Second? "You'll let Avis watch again?"

"Mmmhmmm…" The small head bobbed up and down, a wide smile peeking over the stuffed toy. "He has to know how to fights too."

"That he does, that he does…" The elder chuckled gently, leading his young charge to the armoire. "Just don't try to strap him into armor."

"Aaaawwww…" Zeruch pouted. "But he has to be protecteds too!"

The General found his resolve wavering. Surely there was no harm in letting the child have some fun? Azrael would murder him for this… "Well… Perhaps we can see if there is something for Avis too."

"YAY!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Abaddon…" Azrael had more or less ambushed the General in said General's office.

"Yes?" The warrior did not like the tone of voice. "Shouldn't you be with Zeruch?"

"He's playing with Naya'il." The scholar moved over to the other angel. "Something funny happened though, so I thought I should visit you…"

"Oh?" The sitting angel got up, feeling like it might be prudent to put some distance between them.

"Yes…" Azrael crossed his arms. "You see… he and she decided to play warrior… It seems that he picked up some things when you took him to the barracks."

"Well, it's not like I could put him in my cabinet." The champion of the White City pointed out.

"Yes… no swords in there, are there?" Despite being several heads shorter, the mystic had worked the other quite effectively into a corner. Elegant runed wings spread from one side of the room to the other.

Abaddon meanwhile wondered how he was supposed to get out of it. "He asked." His voice sounded decidedly more meep-like than he would have liked.

"He is a five-year old…" The scholar snarled. "And _you_ are supposed to be the responsible adult."

"You know how he gets." Exactly how undignified would it be for him to turn tail and flee his own office? Granted, he'd probably not get very far, but a viable attempt could still be made.

"Considering just two month ago you were considering killing him, I am surprised you'd give him a weapon." Azrael poked the General's chest.

"It was a wooden sword." Despite not feeling it as he was wearing armor, Abaddon still retreated from the poking finger. No good came from being near Azrael when he was angry.


	21. Chapter 20

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****20**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Even after visiting Azrael's workplace a few times, Zeruch still stared with awe at the tall hallways of the Argent Spire. "Magnificent, isn't it?"

Snapping out of his daze, the child nodded at Abaddon and added in a hushed voice. "It's so high and pretty!"

Making a sound of agreement, the General headed towards the First Mystic's office with a brisk walk. It was Azrael's turn to look after Zeruch today... and the rest of the month.

"Ah, there you are." The scholar had been waiting for them, leaving his door open. "Did you two behave?" He grinned lightly, inviting them to sit down on the couch in his office.

"A~huh; I visited Mertha today!" The child excitedly responded while the warrior seated him on the couch. "And Az…." Zeruch whispered breathlessly, his eyes all wide and bright.

"Nice to hear." The mystic joined his ward. "What is it?" He threw a small glare at Abaddon. This better not involve the General having tried to get the boy into early classes again.

Lifting one eyebrow at his friend's glare, Abaddon prodded the little Nephilim: "Tell Azrael the good news."

Bouncing in delight, Zeruch continued: "Heyyel told us that Mertha is going to have BABIES! That's so great!"

"That is indeed." The scholar tousled the child's long tresses. "Though I guess that means you won't be seeing her for a while then."

At that, the child looked somewhat dejected: "I know, Abby and Heyyel told me that. Gonna miss her, but I can visit the others, right?" At the last sentence he turned towards the bulkier male.

Wincing at the new nickname, the General responded: "Of course you can, Zeruch. And once Mertha's clutch has grown enough, you can visit her again."

"Abby?" The rune-winged angel chuckled. "I like that name." He smiled up at the warrior. "Want some drink before you have to leave again, Abby? What about you, Zeruch?"

Abaddon muttered darkly about why is he even putting up with this nonsense - oh right: beloved friend and good sex - and waved off the drink. "I have to return back to the barracks. I have to prepare the recruits for training at the outposts. "

Zeruch giggled at the muttering but when he heard what the elder male said afterwards, he then whined at General: "Awwww, can I see you again, soon?" He loved being around the bulky angel and he also gave great lessons how to defeat demons.

"Naturally, Zeruch." The warrior nodded at the other angel. "I'll send a messenger of our return."

"Of course." Azrael patted the boys head. "I'm sure we'll have plenty of fun until then. Perhaps we'll even visit you, considering how long those trips take."

"That would be wonderful." After a final farewell to the scholar and the child, Abaddon made a move to leave.

Jumping from the couch, Zeruch dashed to the male and grabbed one of his legs to give him a big hug. "You come back, right?" He mumbled against the cloth that hung from the waist of the bulky angel.

Azrael smiled lightly at the child's action, getting up himself to rest a hand on the boy's head. "Of course he will, the recruits are not THAT bad. Even if he complains about them a lot."

Chuckling, Abaddon picked up young child. "Azrael's right, they aren't that bad. I'll return to both of you."

"'Kay…" Hugging him again, Zeruch looked sternly at him. "Azzy and I will visit you, soon. Be nice to recruits, they scareds of you."

Handling the child back to 'Azzy', the General responded with a grin: "Can't promise you that."

"Because he's more evil than a demon." Azrael smiled at Abaddon while accepting the boy. "Try not to get yourself crashed into a tree again. It took me hours to get the sap out of your feathers, remember?"

"Because you refused to magic them away" Abaddon grumbled and after waving both of them goodbye, he left the office.

Zeruch waved meekly, looking somewhat thoughtful.

"Because I'd have taken half of your feathers then!" The mystic called out after the General, before sitting down behind his desk and seating Zeruch on his lap. "My, you are looking thoughtful."

"Does Abby have to fight demon lots?" The Nephilim looked up at the Archangel, waiting for his answer.

"Not during training-camps." The scholar assured his ward, levitating another cup for tea over to his desk. "As far as I know, he never fights demons during those." Granted, Abaddon might just not TELL him if he did...

"'Kay…" While watching his caretaker preparing the tea, the child probed further with a soft voice. "But he fights them other times, right?"

"Yes." No use in lying to the child, he'd figure it out sooner or later anyway. "Many angels do."

Blue shining eyes peered back at the pearly white ones. "Do you have to fight too?"

"On very, very rare occasions." Azrael admitted, setting down a cup of tea in front of the boy. "Mostly in emergencies."

"Oh… Do angels get hurts alots? Do you get hurts?"

"Depends on who one is fighting." The elder male sighed softly. "On occasion I got hurt, yes, but that's even rarer than me getting into a battle. I don't really hang around in the thick of it."

Zeruch reached out and embraced the angel around his neck. "Dun wanna you and Abby get hurts…" The young child was terrified to lose the two angels he felt very close to; especially after losing his real family.

"We won't." Azrael wrapped his arms and wings around the child. "Don't worry about that."

Nodding against the angel and with a small "'Kay", Zeruch held on for a few more moments. He felt safe and secure in the scholar's embrace.


	22. Chapter 21

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****21**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A month later Abaddon returned to the City, only to find a note on his desk requesting his presence at Azrael's home at his earliest convenience. As he had not been crashed into trees by overly enthusiastic recruits, this meant after a nice bath and quick meal. He knew how much his friend hated the smell of training-camp.

"You hollered?" Entering like he owned the place, the General was stopped from saying more by a small form colliding with his legs. Zeruch was hugging him. "Well, hello there." He lifted the boy onto his hip, walking over to the scholar sitting behind his desk.

"No trees this time?" Azrael got up, looking his friend over. "That's a surprise."

"Hardihar…" The warrior rolled his eyes. "What did you need me for this soon?"

"I'm gonna get wings!" Came the loud proclamation from his side. Zeruch was beaming, a wide grin on his shining face.

The Gatekeeper nodded in agreement. "I have finished the necessary spells. But as it involves shifting and forming… flesh and bone, I require someone to hold Zeruch still as I work my magics." The scholar's slender hand settled on the boy's silk-covered back. "He wants to see it as his - 'name-earning-test' was it? – but still: him distracting me could be disastrous. And considering you are already in the know…"

"I see." Looking at the child he was holding, it seemed that Azrael had told the boy at some earlier point already that the General knew. "Of course I'll help." Inwardly, he winced. If the thought of _cutting off_ wings made his skin crawl, the thought of _growing_ them was hardly better. "Are you certain this will work?"

"No." The mystic lead the way upstairs, opening the door to his own bedroom. "But it is the only option to allow him proper flight and thus, a proper life here." Sitting down on the plush blankets, he patted the white silk in front of him.

Setting the child down, Abaddon sat down cross-legged with his back against the footrest. The young promptly clambered into his lap. "Wrap your arms around my neck." The bulkier angel whispered, briefly caressing the white hair in front of his face. He couldn't quite hide the small smirk at the strong grip the little Nephilim had. Oh yes, come Hell or high water, he was going to enroll him in warrior-training!

Azrael reached forward, using his fingers to push open the wing-holes of the deep-red tunic. "Ready?"

Wrapping his arms around the small child, Abaddon nodded briefly. "Yes."

Taking a deep breath, Azrael closed his eyes and started to chant. The warrior could not even _try _to follow the interwoven spells filling the room around them.

He was interrupted in his attempt to follow the mystic's enchantments by the child in his arms tensing. Small hands became fists and he could see the child bite down on his lip to keep from crying out.

"Easy there." The warrior soothed the boy, carefully caressing his hair. "You can do it." A choked sob was his answer as the little Nephilim burrowed into the soft fur draped over his shoulders.

He could see Azrael tense before closing his eyes to the child's suffering... literally.

Keeping up his soothing whispers, it broke the old warrior's heart to hear the boy whimper as his friend worked his elaborate magics. He was starting to wonder if it might be better to postpone this as he was beginning to doubt that Zeruch would be able to handle the pain.

An outcry of pain shocked him into tensing his arms. Which was a good thing as the child was nearly trashing in his hold. It seemed that his ability to bear the pain had come to an end.

White eyes widened at what he suddenly saw near Azrael's fingers. The olive-toned skin of Zeruch's back was parting, though there was no blood. Instead, something else seemed to come out from the openings. Creator...

Bone was sprouting, forming the skeletal basis of a future set of wings. Holding the child tightly to keep him from moving too much, Abaddon couldn't stop his mouth from falling open at the sight. Azrael was actually managing to give the boy wings!

His eyes flicked to his old friend. The scholar's brow was furrowed and his jaw tense. He could practically feel the guilt roll of the other angel at the pain he was causing.

The warrior's eyes narrowed though when seeing the beading perspiration on the other's forehead. If he was this exhausted already, would he have enough strength left to finish it? He dared not imagine what would happen should the spells fail while Zeruch had only the wing-bones with nothing to hold them together. Would they just fall down!?

Wrapping his arms a bit tighter around the whimpering form in his lap, he hesitantly pressed a chaste kiss to the wet forehead. "You are doing wonderfully, Zeruch, just hold on a bit longer." The screams had stopped at least, but it was clear the boy could not take much more.

And Azrael was still only at the stage of forming the bones! Biting his lip, Abaddon resisted the urge to demand the mystic hurry up already. It'd be no use anyway and he might well risk breaking the scholar's concentration to the point that the entire spell failed.


	23. Chapter 22

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****22**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Abaddon held the panting child as Azrael briefly collapsed in exhaustion. "It's over. You did well." He gently caressed the sweating brow. "Very well indeed."

"I... I crieds..." Zeruch sniffled, slowly letting go of the death-grip he had on the angel's fur. "I was weak."

"No." The General briefly stretched his arms before returning to hold the boy. "You held out longer than many others would have." Smiling lightly, he reached out to poke the small wings. "And look, you have wings now."

Several owlish blinks informed the elder angel that the boy had not even realized that. "I does?" He seemed almost hesitant to turn around and confirm it himself.

"Pretty certain you do." Abaddon flicked one of the wings, grinning a bit when it twitched in answer.

They kept twitching as Zeruch's new muscles spasmed at their wakening nerves. "I... I got wings..." Slowly the child turned around, wide blue eyes mapping out the feathers on his new appendages. "I gots wings!" Then his eyes strayed to the angel lying prone on the bed and the General could see the blood drain from his face. "Az...?"

"He's resting." The warrior spluttered when he got hit in the face by wings. Zeruch rushed over to the scholar, trembling as he started to shake the slender male. "Zeruch!" Pulling the child back from Azrael, his white eyes widened when having to hold the child from squirming free. "Creator, calm down!"

"HE DEAD!" Zeruch wailed, desperately trying to get free. "I killeds him too!"

"He's not dead." In his surprise, Abaddon lost his grip on the little Nephilim. Creator, where had that come from!? And then he remembered: the middle brother, who had been killed while being distracted during assuring his little brother would be safe. "Zeruch, he will be fine."

"He dieds..." Tears streamed down the small face as his trembling hands reached for the scholar. "He nots moving."

"He is moving." Crawling over, the Leader of the Hellguard wrapped one arm around the trembling child. "Feel." Using his free hand, he pressed the trembling one of the boy to Azrael's silk-covered chest. "He's breathing. He's fine. Just very tired."

The trembling grew less as Zeruch registered the slow and steady rise and fall of the Archangel's chest. The tears however, did not. "What... what if he still gonna...?"

"He won't." Soothingly caressing the white-haired head in front of him, Abaddon wrapped his wings around the boy. "He is just sleeping for a bit. Growing your wings wasn't easy." He knew the little Nephilim wouldn't actually fully believe him until the scholar actually woke up again, but there you go.

They sat in silence after that, only the young one's sniffles filling the room with sound.

"He's not waking..." Zeruch whimpered softly, starting to reach for the elder angel again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Azrael was greeted with the sound of silent sobs. Why was someone crying? Forcing his eyes open, he looked towards the source of the noise.

"You awake!" Someone wailed, colliding with the scholar's exhausted body and giving him a frantic hug.

"Zeruch...?" Disoriented, the Gatekeeper pushed himself upright somewhat. "What...?"

"You had him completely frantic." Abaddon's deep chuckle came from the foot-end of the bed. "The poor boy thought he had killed you when you staid unconscious. Refused to leave your side."

"Oh..." Wrapping his own arms around the child, Azrael soothingly caressed his platinum hair. "It's alright now, I'm fine."

In answer the boy just burrowed deeper into his robes. "I'm sorry... Please don't die..."

"Ssshhh..." Kissing the small head softly, the scholar whispered softly. "I won't die on you, little one, don't worry."

"I dun wanna lose another family..." Whimpering, Zeruch clung to the Archangel. "Dun leave me, daddy."

The exclamation came as a shock to Azrael. "Da... daddy? Did you call me 'daddy' just now?"

Realizing what he had just said, the child froze up. He felt dumb for suddenly shouting that out. He really liked Azrael: he took care of him, he was nice to him, he tried to help find his real family and when he couldn't, he still wanted him. He even gave him nice wings! But surely he didn't want to be called 'daddy'...

"Zeruch... Look at me?" Azrael tilted the child's head up as Abaddon said nothing. "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"I would like to... But I can understand if you don't wanna... I am not an angel." Zeruch mumbled and his wings drooped, mirroring his feelings.

Hesitating briefly, the scholar in the end wrapped both his arms and his wings around him. "I'd be honoured to be your father, Zeruch."

Looking at the angel in surprise, wings lifting up in joy, the little Nephilim asked in astonishment. "Really? You don't mind if I call you... 'daddy'?" He felt himself becoming lighter with happiness.

"Only if you don't mind if I call you 'son'." Azrael pressed a kiss to the boy's forehead.

Wings flapping in excitement, Zeruch jumped against his father and hugged him with all his might. "Thank you, daddy."

"The pleasure is all mine... my son." Azrael answered, pulling the boy close.

Zeruch felt ecstatic at hearing Azrael acknowledge him as his son. For the longest while, he thought he would never have a family again. But now he had a father! Despite losing his siblings, at least he was not all alone anymore now that he had a father.

Azrael just held the child close, enjoying the realization that he now had a child, not merely a ward. He sighed softly, caressing the boy's snow-white hair. Opposite of them, Abaddon smiled warmly at the scene, slowly making his way off the bed. "I'll inform Damiana that she ought to prepare a feast."


	24. Chapter 23

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****23**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two hours later, the little party was in full swing. Azrael was sitting on his favourite armchair, still regaining his energy. Zeruch was bouncing around the room, showing off his wings to anyone who would look. Which was everyone that had been invited.

"He's so happy." Abaddon delivered a piece of cake to the scholar.

"Well, he did get wings..." Azrael chuckled lightly.

"And a father." The General sat down on the armrest, curling his wing around the other angel.

"And that." The mystic smiled gently as Zeruch ran over to him. "Like them so far?"

Big blue eyes beamed up at him as the child clambered onto his lap, nearly face-planting into the scholar's chest because of the shift in weight. "Loves them!" He slung his short arms around the scholar again. "Thank you..."

"You're welcome." The angel patted his head.

"More cake!" Suddenly his lap was empty again, Zeruch having rushed over to the cook arriving.

"He's going to be too round to fly at this rate." Nathaniel came over to them.

"He can burn the calories easily." Abaddon dryly stated. Only to get whacked by Azrael's hand. "Sheesh! You're bloody aggressive!"

"Stop trying to enrol him early."

"I wasn't even trying that this time!"

"You were thinking about it though."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Easy there." The scholar ruffled the child's hair. "You'll hurt yourself at this rate." He had told the boy a week ago to start training his wing-muscles, which meant that nowadays the best way to find him was by following the rushing winds.

"But I wanna fly!" Zeruch whined, obediently slowing his white appendages down.

"And you will." The elder angel assured him, rearranging the papers on his desk. "No need to rush things." A big, blue-eyed pout looked up at him. "Alright, alright... when Abaddon comes here, how about we see how strong your wings have gotten. How does that sound?" He was rewarded with a wide grin. "Now, have you finished your other lessons?"

"No...?" His son slumped a bit.

"Go finish that first." Azrael nudged him to the office exit. "Once you can fly, you have to go to school and there's no way you can just abandon that halfway."

"Booo..." The young Nephilim trudged out of the room.

The older man chuckled softly, turning his attention to his own work again.

An hour later, a door opened a few floors down. Not a moment later, Zeruch rushed downstairs. "He probably was staring out of the window..." The First Mystic grinned lightly as he got up to follow the youngster. "Hello Abaddon."

"Hello." The General was holding Zeruch on his hip. "I heard something about lessons?"

"The ones he abandoned to follow the other ones?" Azrael reached out, briefly patting his son's head. "Did you finish them?"

"Yes." Zeruch slumped. "Cans we now fly? Please..."

"Oh, alright." The scholar chuckled. "Once Abaddon puts on some clothes."

"I am dressed." Abaddon put the boy down.

"And how will Zeruch feel when he crashes into you?" The slender male tapped the solid armour. "Go on, you have some spare clothes still here, if I remember correctly."

"Why do I need to catch him?" Slumping in a way reminiscent of what the child had done just a short while ago, the warrior moved up the stairs. Upon returning downstairs in a set of pants and a tunic, he muttered. "I feel naked."

"Shush." Azrael smirked when Zeruch giggled at the look of discomfort on the elder angel's face. "You'll fuse to that armour at some point if no one stops you."

"I do take it off, you know..." Frowning, Abaddon tried to glare at the giggling form between them. It only increased the giggling... and added a very irritating smirk on the face of his fellow Elder Angel. "Oh, let's just get to the damn lessons, okay?"

"Certainly." Azrael herded his son out of the building. "It suits you though."

"I am naked." The General muttered darkly, resisting the urge to wrap his wings around his body. "I am perfectly capable of catching him in armour."

Zeruch flatly looked up. "It hurtses."

"See?" The scholar smiled lightly. "Come on. I'll even let you go first."

"Warrior-way?"

"Scholar-way."

"Eh?"

"Long story."


	25. Chapter 24

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****24**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A few days later Zeruch was once again in the garden practicing flying; he would climb up one of Azrael's golden trees and jump from a branch while trying to flutter up. He only managed to hover for a few seconds before gliding down to the ground though, which made the young child feel more and more frustrated.

Azrael meanwhile had wanted to check up on the work of the boy, only to find the room empty and the lessons not even half-finished. "Zeruch?" And of course he could find him outside. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing." Zeruch replied in matter-of-fact tone, while perching on a branch to get ready to jump down again.

"You do remember the lessons you have to finish before dinner, right?" The scholar walked up to the tree, looking at the youngster. "You cannot just keep abandoning them as you please..."

"But I need to learn to fly now…" He jumped off his perch.

"No, you need to learn how to read and write now." Azrael waited until the boy had touched down before reaching over to guide him back inside. "Flying-lessons are after you finish your regular ones."

Zeruch pulled himself free and headed back to the tree. "Already know how to read and write and Naya knows how to fly before that!"

"Then you should have no trouble finishing those lessons before practicing flight." Azrael was actually surprised at the Nephilim just pulling away like that. He'd never done that before. "And Naya'il grew her wings when she was one, not five."

"But I wanna fly nooww." Zeruch doesn't understand why Azrael wanted him to do those lessons; he needed to learn how to fly, angels of his age could fly already so he had to catch up. Climbing to a higher branch, he spread his wings – which began slowly to ache from all the practising- and readied himself to jump again.

"You will fly in due time." Azrael sharply stated, flying up himself to pluck the boy from the branch. "Now, you are supposed to do your lessons." Setting down back on the ground, a small frown appeared on his forehead. "And not the flying ones."

Looking up at the Archangel, Zeruch felt agitation mounting. "Why! I doesn't know to fly but I cans read already!" His wings began to tremble with emotion and his blue glowing eyes looked brighter.

"Because it is necessary for you to learn how to read even better." Because quite frankly, the boy was still slow as Hell with that. "And you can practice your flying, _after_ you finished the work I gave you this morning." Azrael pointed out.

"Why can'ts I do that later?!" The child's voice became louder and he felt something burning within him. "I needs to know how to fly!"

"Because you need to get used to the time-schedule of going to school." Azrael's frown increased. "And lower your voice. There is no need to start screaming."

Eyes now turning bright white, Zeruch hollered: "I dun wanna go to school, I wants to fly!"

"Zeruch, calm yourself!" Though he kept his voice on an even volume, one could clearly hear that Azrael was at the end of his patience and would soon start getting angry.

Feeling hot boiling wrath burning through his body, Zeruch yelled "DUN WANNA!" while stomping his small foot on ground. The moment it landed on the pale floor, jagged stone and scorching fire raised in a tight circle around him.

Azrael was caught off-guard by this: being on high-alert on the battlefield was one thing, but in his own home!? The scholar just barely managed to shield his body from the fire with one of his wings, crying out in pain when the stone spikes hit his legs and threw him to the ground.

At a cry of pain, Zeruch snapped out of his rage; blinking in surprise at his surroundings, the Nephilim noticed a low ring of blackened spikes. A faint smell of sulphur hung in the air and soot coated one of his shoes. Slack jawed and eyes returning to their natural colour, Zeruch kept staring at his feet until another sound caught his attention. Staring horrified at his prone and groaning father on ground, Zeruch's mind blanked out.

The mystic slowly got up, favouring his bruised leg. Creator, that hurt! Trying to stretch his wing, he gritted his teeth at the pain. That'd need some healing, that was for certain. The once pearly-white wing was now scorched and singed and a few of the primary feathers were shorter than before. Zeruch couldn't remove his eyes from that wing. He had caused that, he had hurt his own father. A small whimper rose from the boy as the angel healed some of the damage that had been done. He had hurt him! Tears began to fall from his eyes and he started to sob. He had hurt him!

Blinking a few times, Azrael moved closer. "Zeruch?"

"I-I hurts you!" Falling flat on his butt and covering his face with his hands, he sobbed out again: "I keeps on hurts everybody!"

"You didn't." Kneeling beside the boy, he pulled him into a hug. "I am just a little singed. Nothing that won't heal with a good night's sleep."

"But I did, I did hurts you! I saw your face, I saw hurt!", the young boy wailed.

"So? It was an accident." Wrapping his non-singed wing around the child, Azrael softly caressed his hair. "You didn't mean to do it."

"I'm sorry, I was mad and then there was fire and I am sorry." Zeruch burrowed deep in Azreal's arms, clinging into his robes and pressed his face against the chest. "I'm Sorry"

"Considering when my powers came in, I shrank my father… yours came in quite gentle." Azrael chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss on his son's head.

Hiccupping, Zeruch only let out a small whine.

Hoisting him up in his arms, Azrael headed back inside. He could fix the garden later. "I can't wait to see Abaddon's face when he finds out you can wield firemagic..."

"Dun wanna wield firemagic; its hurts you", a small voice sounded, face still hidden from view.

"Well, you at the least will have to learn the basics to keep it from accidentally getting out of hand like that again." The scholar sat down in his armchair, child still on his lap.

Trembling, Zeruch hugged his father tightly around his middle. "I dunno…" He was still unsure about wielding his newfound magic.

"But think of everything you could do." Making something of a face, Azrael stared into the direction where the Barracks were. "Abaddon is going to be thrilled at you torching every demon there is."

He let out a small giggle. "I cans burn them?" Sitting up on Azrael's lap, Zeruch wiped off the rest of his tears and looked down at his own sleeves. "I'm sorry for hurtsing you… and yelling."

"Quite alright. As said, we all make mistakes." Azrael ruffled his hair. "As for burning demons, you first need to finish school for that..." He pointed up to where Zeruch's room was with a chuckle.

"… Okay…" Zeruch then let out a sigh and slowly removed himself off his father's lap. Heading back to his room, his wings were still drooped and once awhile jerked in discomfort.


	26. Chapter 25

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****25 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

**Author's Note: ****Guest-chapter by fellow writer Mask-of-Dakla**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Two angelic children giggled and chased each other while their appointed sitters watched over them from the bench, where they both lazed about. The young girl flitted through the air like an energized hummingbird, whereas the boy followed her with more caution and still to some degree unstable. Once a while, in her enthusiasm, she would grab the other's arm and pull him up higher in the sky. At the first time, Zeruch squealed in surprise at the action however when the initial shock subsided, he laughed with her while gliding back down.

"Zeruch's flying is getting better by the day", Nathaniel remarked to his friend, while watching his daughter teaching Zeruch to do a loop-the-loop.

Abaddon hummed in agreement and added; "Indeed. Not surprised, though. He basically practices every day, after he's finished with Azrael's chores. " He watched Zeruch trying to replicate his friend, but somewhat failed in his first attempt.

"I've heard Azrael is now teaching him some basic firemagic." Turning to Abaddon, Nathaniel raised in mirth his brow: "Do I want to know how you both found out about Zeruch's affinity?"

With a sight, Abaddon began: "Well…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_The General rushed inside his friend's abode, calling out in worry: "Azrael! What happened to your garden! Did someone tried to Smi-? Your Wing!" Abaddon gaped at the scholar's singed limb. _

_Azrael raised his hand to stop the warrior before he could demand an explanation. "Don't worry, old friend. I just need a good night's sleep and all will be healed. And as for the garden…" With a sigh, the First Mystic continued: "Zeruch had an anger tantrum." _

_Blinking, Abaddon stared at Azrael. _

_A small smile appeared on the Mystic's visage at the expression: "We had an argument about finishing chores and practising flying which caused Zeruch lose his temper, thus accidently unleashing his affinities." Lifting the singed wing for emphasis, Azrael said: "Zeruch have a strong affinity with fire, since he scorched up my wing and garden. I do believe he also has it with stone, except weaker. "_

_Still staring without a word at Azrael, something changed in Abaddon's expression._

"_Abaddon, no."_

"_By the Heavens, I-!"_

"_You were thinking about it again."_

_With a huff, Abaddon grumbled: "You know me far too well." Feeling a lot calmer than before, Abaddon enquired: "How's Zeruch? I assume it must be quite a shock for him."_

"_Yes, he was quite upset that he accidently hurt me. He nearly didn't want to learn about his firemagic, but I managed to change his mind." Azrael drew a face and mumbled glumly: "Told him that you would be very pleased if he could torch every demon in sight."_

_At this sullen confession, Abaddon guffawed out loud. "Well, I'm pleased that you are starting to see my way."_

"_Oh shut it!"_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Nathaniel chuckled and shook his head. "I'm surprised he didn't try to whack you."

"Couldn't, I was standing at the side of his injured wing", Abaddon unconcernedly replied while observing Zeruch making a successful yet wobbly loop-the-loop. Before Nathaniel could make a remark, Abaddon called out: "Well done, Zeruch! You've done it!"

With a squeak and a whoosh, a bright eyed boy landed between the General's arms; already used to having the child using him as a landing pad, Abaddon caught the boy before he could crash himself against the cuirass.

"Did ya see, Uncle? Did ya see it?!", Zeruch rambled at Abaddon, all excited by his accomplishment.

Grinning, Abaddon reminded the child: "Of course I saw it, Zeruch. You did well, very well."

"I gonna be the bestest loop-the-looper in whole the world!", the cheerful boy declared, raising both his arms and wings in the air.

"You're going to need to practice more before you can become the best loop-the-looper around here", the General of the Hellguard explained.

Zeruch's face became all solemn and nodded at the elder angel, lowering his arms plus his wings. "Uncle, help me up so I cans practice again."

Getting up from the bench, Abaddon asked the determined boy: "The Scholar's or Warrior's way?"

"The Warrior's way!" Flatting his wings against his back and positioning arms loosely at his sides, Zeruch braced himself for the next action.

"That's my boy! Get ready… and UP!" With a smooth and easy motion, Abaddon threw his charge at least a few metres high up in the skies above him.

Giggling and a loud "Thank you, Uncle!" back, Zeruch flew towards Naya'il, who was loop-the-looping in a short distance away.

When Abaddon returned back to his seat, Nathaniel asked his dear friend: "So… No Abby anymore?"

Grimacing at the memory of that particular moniker, Abaddon replied: "Oh Heavens no; after a while I asked Zeruch to give me another nickname because I didn't like that one. At that moment, he decided to call me 'Uncle'."

"Shame, it suited you."

"Nathaniel, I can ask Zeruch to give _you_ a nice new name."

"Though now I think about it, I have to admit: 'Uncle' fits you more."

"Thank you."

Changing the subject, Nathaniel said: "Naya'il is looking forward to go to school with Zeruch. She can't stop talking about it." Looking again at the children, loop-the-looping around each other, he continued: "What's Zeruch attitude about attending class?"

"Both excited and nervous, to be honest; it will be his first time meeting other children and adults without our constant presence. Still, he is very keen to go. I guess it will do him good to see other faces."


	27. Chapter 26

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****26 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

**Author's Note: ****Guest-chapter by fellow writer Mask-of-Dakla**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

While looking calm to the outside world, inwardly Azrael cursed his bad luck: of all days the Circle of Mages wanted to schedule a meeting, it had to be today; what was also the day that Zeruch would attend school for the first time. And to make matters worse, the meeting would commence early in the morn, thus giving Azrael little time to spend with his son (that word still made him smile of happiness) and help him acclimatise with his new situation. But, why should he feel nervous about leaving Zeruch behind for class? His writing-skill was now at the same level as most of his peers, though he was still slightly slower with reading out loud. He didn't hide any more when being introduced to new people; on the other hand he remained very shy with strangers and stayed close to his caretakers. And what if Zeruch couldn't connect with his classmates and visa versa? And...

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Azrael tried to find his inner calm again. He was worrying too much about this. Looking at his son, who was fluttering beside and around him (seems Naya'il's fondness of doing the loop-the-loop was rubbing off), Azrael couldn't help to feel his pride and love welling up for the boy. The child came very far in a short amount of time.

A large dome of frosted glass, with a ring of lower buildings surrounding it, rose up from the distance like a calm glittering beacon.

"Look Zeruch, there is your school"

Azrael smiled at seeing his son's eyes turning bigger at the sight; he'd even nearly forgot to flap his wings, making him dip lower in air before hastely resuming flying.

"Wow. My school is shiny and sparkley!" Zeruch answered in awe, still staring at the enormous structure.

"Yes it is, my child."

Chuckling, Azrael gently guided his son further towards the school. Landing near the entrance, he held out his hand so Zeruch could grasp it. Once the small hand of the Nephilim slid into his own larger but slender one, Azrael headed in the direction of the class rooms.

While walking through the portico, Zeruch stared at the courtyard where a few angelic children were fluttering around. Azrael searched the other side, reading the scriptures near the class-doors. Once he found the correct class-room, he knocked a few times and entered.

"Greetings Archangel Azrael, you are early today." A graceful angel clad in calming light green robes, stood up from her desk.

"Greetings Lady Hahlii and yes, I had to bring Zeruch early today. There is an appointment I unfortunate couldn't delay. I hope it is not too of an inconvenience?" Azrael felt Zeruch grasping harder at his hand.

Lady Hahlii smiled while giving a light bow. "Not at all and this must be young Zeruch." She looked at the boy clutching the elder angel.

"Zeruch, this Lady Hahlii; she will be your teacher."

"Hello Lady Hahlii." Zeruch answered in a soft voice and waved shyly at the lady.

Kneeling down so she was more at the child's height, Lady Hahlii smiled in encouragement at him. "Nervous for your first day at school?"

"Only a teensy tiny bit." The boy showed a small space between his index finger and thumb.

With a small laugh, the teacher stood up again and gestured at the room; "I'm happy to hear that. Now Zeruch, since you are so early you may choose where you want to sit and put there your bag. I'm sure you want to explore the playground."

Zeruch beamed at both of the adults and hopped further inside the room.

"I assume you know some of the details of Zeruch's circumstances?" Azrael enquired half glancing at his son placing his bag on one of the desk in the back near a stained glassed window.

"I have been informed, Archangel Azrael. If there's any major concern, I'll send someone for you. "

"Thank you Lady Hahlii." Catching a hopping Zeruch, Azrael lifted him up and embraced him. "Have a good day, my son and remember: if there is anything wrong, tell it to your teacher."

"I will daddy, good luck with your meeting." Zeruch mumbled while squeezing back, making sure he was careful. Daddy was less sturdy compared to Uncle.

"Thank you; I will need it." The Archangel put down his child and waved him goodbye when Zeruch dashed towards the playground. After saying his farewell to Lady Hahlii, Azrael headed in great haste to his blasted meeting.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Zeruch flew high up towards the ceiling, curious how the frosted glass looked like from up-close. Once he was near enough, he then noticed that the glass wasn't just frosted, but had meticulous engraving of different drawings of angels. Even though the faces were left vague, the wings and robes were very detailed. To the child's surprise some of the angels had more wings than the usual two. There were even ones with six wings! Amazed, Zeruch tried to touch the engravings but before he could touch them, was as if a force gently pushed his hand away from the glass. The child frowned and tried again: still no luck.

"HEY ZERUCH!"

In shock, Zeruch shot up and would have slammed his head on the ceiling, if that same force didn't cushion him.

"Oops sorry, Zeruch!" Naya'il giggled, "What are you looking at?"

"Pictures of angels, but I can't touch them. Look!" The young Nephilim demonstrated what he meant.

The young angel tilted her head, studying the glass; "Momma told me they charmed it so we will not smack against it. Papa said he is not sure to protect us or the glass, but he want bet on the glass; then momma hit him on the shoulder."

For some reason, that sounded quite familiar to Zeruch. "Already got a desk?"

"Not yet! Where is yours, so I can sit besides you!" Naya'il asked enthusiastically.

"Come on, I'll race yah!" He nosedived towards the class-rooms.

With an indigent 'Hey! Not fair!', the girl raced with the boy back down. After finding and claiming a desk for Naya'il and waving her parents goodbye, she and Zeruch played around in the courtyard.

They were in a middle of a loop-the-loop contest, when an older angelic child bumped hard against Zeruch. Still flying away from her friend chasing her, she yelled an apology towards the two smaller and disgruntled kids.

Grumbling, Zeruch rubbed his side. It didn't really hurt much but was still annoying to be thrown off like that. When he took a good look around the playground, he noticed it was fuller now; Children cheered and flitted all around him, and a pair of grown-up flying idly while observing the fast fluttering youngsters. Zeruch began to feel somewhat stifled: so much was happening at once, it made him feel overwhelmed.

"Is something wrong, Zeruch?" Naya'il asked in worry, when she noticed him gliding down to the ground.

"It's too much…" Zeruch waved around him, trying to explain his discomfort.

Even though she didn't really understand him, she did promise her parents to look after him and help him around. "Want to go back class?"

Zeruch nodded at her, so they both headed back to the class-room. After greeting the teacher again (and explaining it was too much outside for Zeruch), they sat down at their desk.

"You can go back outside if you wanna." He felt a bit guilty that he had cut their play-time short.

She grinned back at the remorseful boy and while rummaging in her bag, Naya'il replied merrily. "It's okay. Would be no fun without you. Want to draw?" She pulled out a book where she always drew and coloured.

"Sure!"

They managed to draw some angels from dome engravings before a low gong resonated through the school. With many rustling of feather and loud voices, the children began to flood inside the room. Lady Hahlii gently began to herd the young ones to their appropriate desks.

Zeruch shrank a bit in his seat: though it wasn't too bad, it was once again somewhat overwhelming. He kind of missed to be able to hide behind his father or uncle. It always helped him to calm down.

While the teacher was busy in the front of the class helping some kids, near Naya'il's and Zeruch's desk an argument broke out between four angels. They all couldn't agree were to sit and soon began to shove each other. One of them shoved a tad too hard, thus making one fall down on the floor. The grounded one bawled; so shocked of the other crying, that the rest burst into tears creating a choir of wailing.

_"You hear that?" 'Stwife' suddenly asked. Gathering his younger brother in his arms, he swiftly headed towards the sounds there were now filling the silence. It sounded like screams…_

_"The camp!" The child pointed, one arm clutching his bunny. Several tents were burning!_

_A series of curses left the elder's mouth. "Listen to me, you gotta…" He turned to his sibling, moving to put him down. Said sibling would never know what he wanted to say: blood splattered him when something pierced the elder._

_Steel stopped mere inches in front of his terrified face. His brother groaned, gritting his teeth when whoever wielded the blade twisted it and pulled it back smoothly. He fell, barely missing his little sibling._

_"Stwife!"._

"Zeruch!"

Blinking to clear his eyes, Zeruch then noticed he was hiding under his desk. Both his arms and wings wrapped around him, he trembled at the memory of that day.

Small poke at his wing caught his attention. Naya'il peered down in worry at her friend. "Are you okay?"

"I…I…"

"What's going on? Why is he under the desk?" A child butted in; curious at the strange behaviour of his fellow classmate, he looked under the desk and studied Zeruch. "Why are his eyes so weird?"

"Go away! Not your business!" Naya'il snapped at the other.

"Hee~y."

"Naya'il don't be rude and Jeduthun, please return to your seat." A stern voice of the teacher interrupted them. After dealing with four crying children, she was visibly not in the mood for any other argument. Once the other child hurried back to his seat, Lady Hahlii smoothed out her frown and knelt down towards Zeruch. "What happened, Zeruch?"

Still huddled into himself, the blue-eyed child mumbled: "Their crying… I remembered when I… when brother …"

"It's alright, Zeruch. I understand." Lady Hahlii said smoothly, "Do you want me to send out for Archangel Azrael?"

At first Zeruch wanted to yes, but just he wanted to answer her, began to hesitate. He knew that Azrael was a very busy man and needed to work hard at Spiral. And that he was stressed out about the meeting. His father tried to delay it, but some of the higher ranked Scholars protested against it. Even though Daddy would most likely immediately cancel the meeting to pick him up, he didn't want to get him in trouble with the others. No, he is a big boy now and must become strong! And the way to become that, he needed to finish school. He promised that to Daddy!

"No, tis okay. Don't send for him. "

Raising her eyebrows, Lady Hahlii pressed carefully on, "Zeruch, I'm sure Archangel Azrael wouldn't mind to come by."

"No, I wanna my first day school and finish school and learns to fight demons!" Zeruch looked steadfast at his teacher. He must do this!

Seeing the child, despite of him still trembling, filling up with determination, Lady Hahlii sighed: "If you are very sure about that, then I will not call for your warden. Are you calmed down enough to sit correctly at your desk?"

Zeruch wasn't ready to leave his safety spot yet. Noticing him hesitating, the teacher gently told him to take his time and once he was ready, to sit back at his desk again.

Once Lady Hahlii left to tend with the other children, Zeruch heard, "Psst, psst. Do you want Avis?" Naya'il held up the bird-plushie, having pulled out of the boy's bag. "Yes, please." He reached out and snuggled with his toy. For some reason, he felt calmer holding him.

Within an hour, Zeruch joined the class without too much trouble.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Lady Hahlii sighed after seeing off the last child with their parent leave the class-room. What a day. First days tend to be difficult; getting the children (and sometimes even their parents) used to the daily school wasn't the easiest of tasks. And unfortunately, her day wasn't done yet. She needed to prepare a report to The Circle.

In normal situations, The Circle only needed a report from the teacher about their class once every few weeks, but now it was different: Azrael's ward, the orphan, would join for school.

After the horrible disaster of finding a dewinged angelic child at the demons and not being able to locate the said child's family, the both public and The Circle were even more horrified that there were no records of the orphan and his late family. Every child that is born to the angels would be recorded in _The Book of Life_, at least it was supposed to be. It was as if whole line of that child didn't even exist. Some angels theorised that the child could come from the more downtrodden of the White City. They do tend go under the sight of most of the City, but still not such an extent to be essentially to become non-existent!

In shock and horrified at the idea that demons could easily slaughter and kidnap angels without others noticing their disappearance, The Circle decided to send out delegates to register all from highest to the lowest of casts. This mistake mustn't be repeated ever again! Still zealous to fixing this mess, The Circle ordered Lady Hahlii to carefully observe the orphan.

All and all, the child did quite well in class after his panic-attack. There were the physical differences (slight more bulk compared to the others and of course the blue eyes) and some of the behaviour ones. He was bit too quickly overwhelmed in crowded places, but that wasn't what made the teacher worried: it was his reaction when panicking. Angelic children incline to fly everywhere when they panic until they can latch themselves to an adult, just as their instinct dictated. Zeruch did the very opposite: he crawled basically into a hole and curl up to a tight ball. She never witnessed this behaviour in an angelic child. Also of multiple children crying triggered a flashback to his capture and death of his family.

Lady Hahlii sighed one more time; The Circle wouldn't like this news.


	28. Chapter 27

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****27 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What do you mean 'he is being adopted'?" Azrael demanded of the scholar that had requested his presence.

"Yes my lord. The Circle has sent a scroll regarding Zeruch." The scribe looked somewhat uncomfortable about the content. "They had decided since there's no trace of the child's family, they will place him in a new home. They even found a couple who wants to adopt him, despite his 'oddities'."

Azrael blinked in surprise, wordlessly reaching for the scroll and reading it. His hand tightened on the parchment. "This will not be necessary..." He spoke before he really knew he intended to.

"My lord?" The scribe looked surprised at the Mystic's outburst.

"As a matter of fact, I was going to adopt Zeruch myself." Azrael wondered where it had come from as he put down the missive to the side. "Just this morning I planned to get the necessary paperwork." There were entirely too many reasons not to let Zeruch go, completely unrelated to the fact that the boy had become a fixture in his home.

"But the Circle... they already have found a willing couple." Astounded at the events playing out, the scholar just stared at the Archangel. "I'm not sure if the decision is up for debate, my lord."

"My decision precedes the Circle's." The elder scholar stated coolly. "Besides, a child is best served with a stable upbringing. The poor boy has had enough upheaval."

"O-of course, my lord. But the Circle believes that it would benefit the child to have at least two guardians to dote on him. Because of his situation." The scribe knew how much the Archangel loved his warden, so he found it difficult to tell the First Mystic of the Circle's decision.

"Abaddon has already agreed to take the role of second parent." Azrael calmly stated, though he wished he could have actually ASKED Abaddon about it. Eh... Desperate measures and all that...

"General Abaddon?!" The scribe could not believe what he was hearing; the General of the Hellguard was willing to settle down and help to raise a child!? That was nearly unheard of.

"Is there something wrong with that?"Azrael coolly demanded.

"No, no, my lord! It's just that... the General tend to use all his focus on the protection of the Kingdom and well... "

"Which is why I am also a parent." Azrael dryly stated. "Heaven help any child that is only his..."

The scribe had to agree to that. "Of course, my lord. I shall send a message to the Circle, regarding your decision. Do you want me to collect and sent out the necessary papers for the adoption, my lord?" Oh my, the First Mystic and the General of the Hellguard were really together now; who would have thought they ever would go all the way?

"I would appreciate it." The rune-winged angel nodded slowly. "Is there ought else?" Now to hope he got to Abaddon before the rumour-mill did.

"No, my lord. That is all. " After a bow, the scribe hurried away to send out the paperwork.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The General stormed inside the office of the scholarly Archangel merely an hour later and yelled in confusion. "Azrael, what the by the 2 Kingdoms is going on?! Many of the officers are congratulating me for adopting a child with you. Nathaniel just scolded me for not telling him about you and Zeruch, and then kept on pestering me when we are going to marry. " He waved a few scrolls at Azrael. "These are from the Circle; apologies for the confusion and congratulation for adopting Zeruch." Abaddon peered in suspicion at the moderately guilty-looking scholar. "Azrael, what did you do?"

"Not beat the rumour-mill to you, apparently..." Azrael blinked. "It has been an hour at most, how in Heaven's name did this spread so fast!?"

"Don't ask me and don't change the subject: what is this, me being one of Zeruch's guardians? Don't I have a say about this anymore?" Abaddon looked a bit insulted.

"I... I panicked." The scholar weakly admitted. "They... they were going to take him..."

"Pardon, why?" The General calmed down somewhat hearing the scholar's admission.

"They were going to take my _son._" Azrael softly said, hand clawing at his desk. "I... I just couldn't let them do that..."

At seeing the Mystic a little unhinged at the prospect of losing his son, Abaddon tried to shush him. "According to the letter that won't happen anymore, old friend."

"Yeah... because you and I are adopting him..." Azrael took some deep breaths. "I was asked to come to another scholar's office today and he told me the Circle had just looked for a family for him!"

The warrior closed the distance to the scholar and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Did they explain why they wanted to relocate him?"

"A child needs a proper family... and all that." Azrael chuckled weakly. "My apologies, Abaddon. Can I make it up to you?"

Giving a huff, he waved the angel's offer away. "Don't worry about it, old friend. But the next time send a note immediately when you try lasso me in your scheming. Having half of your officers suddenly personally congratulate you about something you weren't aware of and getting letters flooding in about the same topic is very unnerving." Abaddon frowned when he asked the next question. "Why did you name me as the second guardian though? Most of the time, I'm in the outposts dealing with intruders. Isn't it better to find somebody else who has a less demanding position?"

"For one, the boy does not hide from you." The scholar pointed out. "Secondly, I was certain you'd be unlikely to yell 'no, I never intended to adopt him'..." Azrael chuckled lightly. "Thirdly, your name just came out of my mouth at that point."

"Never saw you the sort to panic and yell out something random." Abaddon answered, looking amused at the other angel.

"You have someone announce they're going to take your son, let's see how collected you are." The scholar poked him in the chest. "Well, shall we tell him then?"

Semi-slapping away the finger, Abaddon sighed. "Better if we do. Don't want him to have the same kind of shock I've gotten this noon." The next few sentences were a mere grumble. "Don't see why everybody also assumes we're getting married."

"Well, if two angels have a child together, they usually ARE married..." Azrael offered with a chuckle. "Or at the very least _this _close to doing so."


	29. Chapter 28

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****28**

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

**Author's Note:** **What do you ****guys think of having**** Zeruch get a Love-interest later on? (warning: it won't be Naya'il)**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Zeruch was ecstatic when they told him that they'd be his parents forever now.

Abaddon was less so when the boy promptly also asked whether they would marry, having made the connection between 'parents' and 'married' through his many visits to Naya'il.

All in all, he had settled in quite nicely in Heaven, only rarely longing for his home in the Nephilim camp. Though he missed his siblings plenty... Sometimes, he'd leave his bed and head for Azrael's, needing the feel of another body beside him to fall asleep.

"That time again?" Azrael stood in his door-opening, looking down upon his son. "C'mon."

Holding Avis, Zeruch slipped inside, clambering onto the adult's bed. "Sowwy."

"It's no bother." Azrael followed him, pulling the small form close. "What brought this on?"

In answer, his son's face just disappeared in his chest. "Just... reasons..."

"Alright." The scholar tucked them both back into the blankets. "You'll tell me if it's anything important?" He smiled when Zeruch nodded obediently. "Goodnight then."

Truthfully, the boy's thought had started wandering when Abaddon had said farewell to go on a campaign against the demons, until they had landed with his second brother and the reminder that Stwife was dead because of said demons.

"Az?" He peeked up at the elder angel. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." The mystic looked down at him.

"What happens to Nephilim when they dies?" He whispered shyly, hiding behind Avis.

"Oh." Azrael thought briefly. "I assume the same as with angels... Their soul gets reborn in a new body."

"Oh... when woulds that happen?" Zeruch's face was half-hidden behind Avis as he regarded his father.

"That depends... usually within a year." Smiling gently, he pushed the plushy away to look at the child's face. "So someone might have your brother as a baby right now."

"Really?" Big blue eyes shone at that.

"Yes." Azrael could assure him. "Though I am afraid he'll probably not remember you anymore."

"Oh..." The child deflated at that. "So... so he wouldn'ts remember... how... how..."

"He doesn't remember that either." The scholar rubbed his head gently.

"Oh." The small form burrowed into his chest. Soon, he felt it shake and then he heard sobs.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

A few months later, Zeruch got up from his bed with a yawn. Still a bit drowsy and his wings all fluffed up, the young Nephilim walked downstairs for breakfast.

"Well, good morning to you too." Azrael greeted his son when the younger male joined him and Abaddon for breakfast. The General had staid over that night again.

"Morning daddy, Morning uncle", yawned Zeruch while climbing on his chair at the table.

"Good morning, Zeruch," Abaddon greeted back. He grinned a bit mischievously at the young sleepy child. "Aren't you excited?"

Still not fully awake, Zeruch's only response was a loopy "Huh?"

"It's been a year since you came here." Azrael reminded the sleepy boy. "Not to mention, people are already asking when your birthday is. Abaddon and I thought it might be a good idea to think of one, since sadly you will have to stay here for the foreseeable future."

"Oh...OH! Birthday is like how my kind tells you that you survived another couple of years? Is that the one you explained me about, daddy?" Zeruch was now wide awake and bouncing in his chair. "Does that mean I get cake?"

"That one, yes." Azrael chuckled lightly at how cake seemed to wake the boy right up. "I take it you like the idea of having that?" Getting up from his seat he walked around the table to hug the child. "Happy Birthday, my son. I am sure Damiana will make you a glorious cake."

Blinking at Zeruch's description of birthdays, Abaddon also stood up to congratulate the young boy. "Happy Birthday, little warrior-to-be. "

"Thank you daddy and uncle!", Zeruch cried out, giving each of them a big one hug. "What are we going to do today?" His blue eyes glowed brightly in happiness.

Lightly slapping his lover over the head, Azrael sat back down in his chair. "What do you want to do?" He smiled lightly. "It is your special day after all." Very conveniently, he had chosen a weekend to have the child's first birthday.

"Can we visit the Ortho-pen? I want to watch them." Zeruch asked somewhat shyly, knowing that the Mystic wasn't really fond of the giant angelic beasts.

Azrael pretended he had to think about that a bit. "Oh well, I suppose we might as well." He said with a teasing grin. "After breakfast though."

Throwing his hands in the air and cheering out loud, Zeruch jumped from his chair and dashed towards the door. Abaddon, however, scooped him, up with ease before he could reach the exit. "Whoa, not yet young man. Breakfast first, Ortho's later." The General reminded the excited boy while holding him up.

Azrael chuckled at the sad face the child made. "C'mon, the Ortho's will still be there."

"... Kay." Zeruch replied while Abaddon put him back to his chair. The next few minutes and a breakfast later, Zeruch waited impatiently for the grown-ups to finish up. His fluffy wings twitched in excitement at the thought to visiting the pens. Maybe uncle let him ride one of the Ortho's this time?

The scholar chuckled a bit at the eager face of the boy. "Well, who volunteers for dishes?" He teased his son, looking at the mess they had left on the table.

"Daaa~aad! Please? Can we do it later? Please?" Wide blue eyes stared at his father, begging him for them to head out, not even realizing that normally the scholar's servants did that instead.

Azrael laughed at the puppy-dog eyes looking up at him. "I was merely teasing. Though it might be prudent for you to dress." He pointed at the sleeping-robe the boy still wore.


	30. Chapter 29

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****27 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After half an hour, the small family arrived at the pens. "Go on then." Azrael shooed the boy ahead.

Squealing in delight, Zeruch dashed towards the Ortho-pens with Abaddon following. On the way, they met Heyyel, who smiled and welcomed them. "Greetings, visiting the Ortho's again?"

"Yes, it's my birthday today and daddy said I could go to the pens!" The boy told him with a wide grin on his face.

"Oh, congratulations with your birthday then, Zeruch. May the winds forever carry your wings." Kneeling down, the caretaker whispered to the young child. "Mertha's clutch is now grown enough for viewing."

The boy's eyes widened at the news. "Uncle, uncle, uncle. Can we see Mertha and her babies? Please?"

"Of course, Zeruch. Heyyel, if you could lead the way?"

Azrael followed the small group, smiling in amusement at the boys beaming eyes. "Do be careful though. Mothers are very protective of their young."

"I will, daddy." After listening to the instructions, Zeruch carefully entered the pen with Abaddon. Looking up to the visitors, Mertha cooed when she recognised the pair. Three fluffy little orthos peeked from under her wing and chirped a couple times in curiosity.

Azrael waited outside, leaning on the pen-side. Ortho's did not like his glowing wings for some reason.

Zeruch walked slowly towards the mother Ortho. "Hello Mertha, your babies are cute and fluffy." At hearing the soft voice of the boy, Mertha fully relaxed and laid her head between her front legs while still keeping an eye on her chicks. The younglings chirped again and headed towards him. Once they were close enough, he began to pet one of them. "So soft and fluffy." The other chicks chirped even louder and tried to push each other away so they could get the most attention. Giggling, he attempted to pet all of them at the same time.

"Abaddon." Azrael called softly to his friend, careful not to disturb the cluster of children a short distance away.

"Yes?" Abaddon headed closer to Azrael after he was sure that there would be no problems.

"Do you think one of them could be set aside for Zeruch?" Azrael gestured with his head to the small orthos. "He – and you – would certainly like it, no?"

"I can ask Heyyel about it." Abaddon smiled slyly at Azrael, "So, does that mean he can go those classes we talked about?"

"No." The scholar looked flatly at his fellow caretaker. "A child only starts at 15, Abaddon, not 7 or 10 or any age like that."

"You know there are special courses for the younger, talented ones. He can enter them easily enough." Abaddon tried again to convince him. At seeing the expression, he'd just sighed. "Alright, I'll ask Heyyel about the adoption."

Azrael sighed. If the boy wanted to become a warrior, fine, but for Heaven's sake a normal one, not one that is trained 24/7 from the age of 7. "See if he can wrap a bow around it." The mystic chuckled lightly.

The general flatly stared at the First Mystic. "They are bred to be war mounts, not to become some mollycoddled pet." But when he turned away, he chuckled lowly. "However I will see if they have a nice collar for it."

Meanwhile, Zeruch was playing a game of chase with the chicks. Giggling, he ran around with the fluffy chicks hopping behind him.

"I'll just transform the collar." Azrael called after his friend. "A gift must have a bow after all."

Grumbling about soft-hearted scholars, Abaddon went to speak with Hayyel.

There was one particular ortho, which was very fond of the boy. Even when the mother called her chicks for grooming, it still refused to leave Zeruch's side. "Come on, your mommy is calling for you." He picked up the chick to bring it to Mertha, but when he wanted to put it down, the chick used its tiny claws to hold onto the clothing of the little angel. With a huff, he sat down near its mother so she could fuss over her young.

"Got a problem?" Azrael called out to the boy at seeing the chick refusing to let go. "Try petting it."

Heeding his father's advice, Zeruch began to stroke over the chick's head and back. It slowly closed its eyes while purring in delight. After a while the claws relaxed and unhooked from the clothes. Once Mertha noticed this, she plucked it from Zeruch's lap. The chick immediately started making whiny chirping sounds, not amused by being carried away from its playmate.

"Well, I believe it will not be too hard to decide which one of the chicks is the most suitable for the boy." Hayyel looked fondly at the boy waving goodbye at Mertha and her chicks.

"Indeed." Azrael chuckled lightly. "Had fun?" He asked Zeruch when the boy joined them.

Eyes gleaming, Zeruch nodded. "It was fun. I played with them. Did you see how cute they are? They are so poofy and small. How long do they stay so poofy? Mertha was also so nice. One of them didn't even want to let go. And when can we visit them again?" A barrage of words tumbled from his lips, barely giving the adults a chance to answer. It was clear that he enjoyed himself immensely at the pen.

At hearing the last sentence, Abaddon replied. "Very soon again, Zeruch. I even insist you visit more often from henceforth. You need to create a strong bond with your ortho."

"Huh?"

"Well, it is traditional that a gift is given on a birthday..." Azrael leaned down until he was more at eye height with the child. "Something which Abaddon forgets, granted. But what do you think of having your own Ortho?"

Grumbling at first about how he had a gift but somebody didn't approve it, the general looked at the perplexed child.

"Really? I can have one?" Eyes wide open, Zeruch looked from Azrael to Abaddon and back. "Really?

"Yes, really." His uncle answered.

Jumping up and down, Zeruch turned to Heyyel in excitement. "I'm gonna get a baby Ortho!"

Azrael tousled the boy's hair. "It'll have to stay here until it is old enough." And you are, he added mentally.

"'Kay!" Zeruch hugged first Azrael and then Abaddon. "Thank you! It's the bestest present ever. It's the bestest Birthday ever!"

"I guess cake will be overkill then?" The scholar asked innocently, getting back up again. "Well, no problem: more for us, isn't it, Abaddon?

"Indeed Azrael. All the more for us." The warrior kept his face expressionless.

"Nuh, I want some cake too~oo." Zeruch tugged both his caretakers' clothes. "Please, can I have some?"

"Ah, but how will any other birthday be able to top this one if you get a present AND cake?" Azrael lifted the child onto his arms, grinning a bit.

"But, but you told me birthdays need cake." protested the young boy. Tilting his head and brows furrowing, he looked at the slender male.

"But this is your first... Are you sure I was not fibbing?" The scholar headed outside, by now struggling to not laugh at the look on the small face.

"But, but Damiana also told me that birthdays must have cake... And cookies! " The word 'cookies', Zeruch thrust both his hands and wings high up in the air. Thanks to the movement, the boy lost his balance and leaned too far back. Nevertheless, with a quick movement Abaddon managed to stop Zeruch from tumbling out of Azrael's arms.

"Whoa, careful there. Can't have you hit your head, can we?"

Azrael moved his arms to better support the boy. "Of course, I was merely teasing you." He patted Zeruch's head with his wing, also hitting Abaddon.

Shooting the scholar a dirty look, Abaddon mentally swore he would get back at Azrael for this.

With a cheer, Zeruch threw his arms around Azrael's neck. Hugging him tight, Zeruch whispered: "I love you, daddy."

"Love you too." Azrael chuckled, pulling the boy closer while looking at Abaddon with an innocent expression. "Is there a problem, Abaddon? Want all the cake for yourself? I am sure I can convince Damiana to make another just for you." He blinked a few times with a wide smile on his face, resisting the urge to summon an illusion of a halo above his head.

"No need, Azrael." Waving away Azrael's proposition, Abaddon walked calmly beside the two. "Have you already decided what you are going to name your Ortho?"

At hearing the question, the boy leaned a bit away from the mystic; frowning deep in thought and placing a finger against his underlip, Zeruch hummed for a moment. His face suddenly morphed into a happy and pleased expression. "I know! I'll call him Orth!"

"The He is a She."

"Oh, then I'll call her Orth!"

Azrael snorted at that. "Orth it is then." He snorted again at the look on the other man's face. "It is a very nice name."

"It... is" The general decided to let it be. "I'm certain that you can't wait for her flying lessons with you."

Zeruch nodded with excitement. "When Orth and I become big, we are going to fight demons!" Mimicking a sword fight, Zeruch slashed with his arm a few times.

"I am sure you two will make quite a pair." Abaddon grinned at the young boy waving about.

"Certainly, the cutest couple around." Azrael caught Zeruch's hand before the boy could hit him in the face. "Matching outfits would be nice too, I am certain." And matching leashes, if those few minutes have been any indication.

"Huh? Why?" Blue eyes stared at the archangel's.

"Just imagine. You and Orth, both with two big pink ribbons around your necks." The scholar smiled widely. "Or maybe you have it around your waist, what say you?" He turned to the General beside them.

Abaddon made a horrified face at Azrael. "You are cruel, Azrael!"

"NO, I dun wanna!" Zeruch stuck out both his arms to the general. "Uncle! Dun let daddy do that!"

Pucking Zeruch from Azrael's arm. Abaddon whispered in comradery: "Don't fret, we'll look for a nice collar for Orth and flying gear for you. But don't tell Azrael. He will charm it into something frilly. "

"I heard that." The scholar laughed lightly. "Beware I don't bring my magics to YOUR wardrobe, Abaddon!" He wagged his finger at the warrior. "I'd know some things that would make you wish for banishment from the City, just saying."

Zeruch giggled, when the two adults kept on bickering at each other while heading back home.


	31. Chapter 30

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****29 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Do I have to wear this, daddy?" Zeruch stared at the many layers of his robe, displeased that he had wear this unwieldy thing. He could barely run in it, forcing him to walk slowly and it was so heavy it made harder for him to fly.

"If you really want to come with me, yes." Azrael chuckled softly. "Besides, you look like a little mini-me, don't you think?" He moved to stand beside his son in front of the mirror.

Looking back and forth from himself and his father, the Nephilim had to admit that the elder was right: two identical looking angels looked back at him from the mirror. During the months of his stay his hair has grown longer, though maybe not as long as Azrael's. But with the formal clothing he looked like a smaller version of the ancient scholar. "Why isn't Uncle coming?"

"Because he had a meeting with some of his staff." The scholar laughed softly. "Perhaps next time we can manage to take him along?"

"Oh, 'Kay."

The child pulled at his collar. "It chokes me." He wasn't used to this ceremonial dress. The camp never really had these kind of gathering; the only time the Nephilim wore this many layers of clothes was during winters. The homesickness towards to his old life became less and less, however with moments like this, he felt the faint twang of loss.

"You'll get used to it." Azrael kneeled down to tug a bit on the fabric so it was more open. "Besides, you look adorable like this." He tousled the boy's hair lightly, promptly smoothing it out again as well. "Be glad you do not need to wear an arch yet." He gestured to the golden ornament on his back.

Making a face at the large arch, Zeruch hesitantly asked. "Do I have to wear that when I'm bigger?"

"Maybe not as elaborate, but you'll have to wear something of an arch, yes." The scholar stood up, offering his hand to the child. "Would you mind if it was like Abaddon's?"

"No... maybe... Why I do need a …." Pointing helpless at the golden Halo. "Why do you wear them? Are they not heavy?" The boy in the beginning had had some problems keeping his balance after he had gotten his wings: he could see himself tip over if he would have that on his back.

"It's a symbol of status." Azrael looked up at it. "And yes, they can get heavy, thankfully you'll only need to wear them when you are an adult and have build up the muscles to be able to carry them." Though the mystic himself had cheated a bit by having enchanted it to be lighter.

Zeruch nodded at that, understanding the principle of symbols to declare your standing in the world. "Okay. Is it why you have markings on your wings? Can I have them too?"

"You'll have to study a lot of magic to get these." Azrael lead the way outside as they talked. "I got these when my magic became really strong."

"Being grown-up is hard." Pouting, Zeruch followed him and reached out to grab his hand.

"Pretty much, yes." The scholar took the hand, beating his wings to become airborne.

Flapping franticly to keep himself aloft with the heavy robes, the young one began to clutch the hand with both of his own. How did his father fly so easy and smooth with his clothes?!

"You okay?" Azrael slowed down a touch. "Want me to enchant your clothes to be lighter?"

"No, is okay..." Zeruch disliked to admit defeat, certainly not over some clothes!

"Alright." The elder angel resumed their flight to the Argent Spire, where the gathering was to be held. "Looking forward to it?"

Grinning at his father, he showed off his tiny sharp teeth. "Yea. Will there be lots of food?"

Azrael rolled his eyes fondly. "There will be a buffet. But you can only go twice." He patted the small head teasingly. "Can't have you eat everything like you used to, can we?"

"Awww." It took quite awhile before the child had become used to eating at least 3 times a day and even longer until he wasn't stuffing himself anymore until absolute fullness every time he got to eat. Nowadays he could contain himself, mostly that is. Though he secretly hoped that his father would make an exception tonight.

"The plates are big." Azrael leaned over with a small chuckle. "And the food is usually very filling." He added as an afterthought.

"Okay. Only two times." He let one hand go, so he could stick up two fingers.

"Good boy." Azrael smiled warmly, making to land in front of the large golden doors.

Landing with stagger, Zeruch managed not to fall forward on his face. Fanning out his wings to get rid some of the tension, he held on tighter on the elder's hand. He once again felt a bit shy to see the large group of angels.

"Don't worry." The mystic lead him inside, looking around the room. "Ah, some others brought their children as well." He pointed up at the ceiling where more children were fluttering around the glowing balls that spend the light at this gathering.

The Nephilim pressed himself against his father. "Can I stay with you for a bit?"

"Ofcourse." Azrael smiled gently at the boy. "Buffet first, I assume?" He gestured to a long table on the other side of the room, loaded with food, laughing softly at the happy and eager nod he received in answer.


	32. Chapter 31

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****30 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Filling the plate with different kinds of food – and looking every time at Azrael for permission if the amount had his approval – Zeruch headed to a small table to sit down. He bounced impatiently on his chair until his father joined him.

"You and your food." Azrael rolled his eyes fondly as he sat down beside his son. "You can start, if you wish."

With a small cheer, the child started to dig in. His whole world narrowed down to him finishing off his plate with food. The scholar chuckled lightly, starting on his own food.

"I was not aware the food was that good around here..." A female voice laughed softly. "Mind if I join you?"

The child was so busy, he hadn't even noticed there was another guest at the table.

"He really likes food in general." Azrael pulled back a chair to let the female sit down beside him. "Zeruch, can you stop eating for a few seconds to say hello at least?"

"Aaawww, I wouldn't want the poor child to starve on my account." The other angel sat down on the offered chair, smiling warmly at the scene.

Stopping at his father's question and also hearing an unfamiliar voice, Zeruch looked up while swallowing the last bite. The moment he glanced at the female, he began to cough loudly.

"Zeruch..." Azrael spoke up after the boy had recovered a bit. "This is Gabriel, a good friend of myself and Abaddon. Gabriel, this is my son, Zeruch... You probably heard of him."

"The entire White City heard of him." Gabriel laughed softly. "Quite some hopes are placed on him bringing you and Abaddon together... finally." She smirked at the other scholar's frown.

"Hi." A tiny voice came from the boy, half hiding behind his food. He stared mesmerised at the female angel, even forgetting his food.

"Oh my, you're a bit shy, no?" She smiled warmly at him, the light of the glowing balls reflected in her jewellery. "He hasn't been around Abaddon long enough, I take it?"

"Out of necessity." Azrael dryly countered, reaching over to pat his son's head. "You know how Abaddon would raise him... A full-blown warrior at 10..."

"Uncle wants me become big and strong", Zeruch whispered. She was the prettiest angel he had ever seen! Even prettier than daddy's wings!

"That's indeed Abaddon." Gabriel chuckled. "Well, at the rate you eat, I have no doubt you'll manage that easily."

"That's what Uncle say", Zeruch turned towards Azrael. "Does it mean I can eat more?"

"Only if you want to become a round ball unable to fly." The male scholar countered, glaring lightly at his friend. "Please don't encourage him. He'll eat himself into a coma if I let him."

"A true warrior then." Now Gabriel laughed out loud now, her wings with golden highlights twitching at her back.

Shyly grinning at the female laughing, Zeruch in fascination at her wings. Before he could stop himself, he blurted out: "You have the prettiest wings of whole world!"

Both Azrael and Gabriel looked in surprise at him at the outburst."I do, do I?" Gabriel smiled gently. "My, how forward of you."

After realising he had said it loud out, he nearly shrank himself into a small ball. His roundish face was bright red in mortification and embarrassment.

"At least he has good taste." Gabriel grinned at Azrael.

"Certainly." Azrael's wing stretched out to enfold the small boy.

He used his father's wing to hide from the lady's view, his food untouched on the table.

"Maybe you'd like to see what the other kids are doing?" Azrael gestured to the fluttering forms up above them, easily able to tell how mortified his son had to be feeling.

At his father's suggestion, Zeruch dashed towards where he had last seen his peers. He however didn't join them with their play; staying at the outer parameter, he hid his head behind his hands. Never had he felt so embarrassed.

"I'll give him a few minutes." Azrael watched his son go. "Then I think I'll need to comfort him a bit."

"I have that effect on men, don't I?" Gabriel grinned in amusement.

"Then again, he seems to have recovered somewhat." Azrael looked up at the children flying above. The boy with bright blue eyes was among them. "Honestly, he's six, Gabriel. Keep your charms at bay."

She laughed again. "Come now, Azrael. You wound me. I do have standards for my men... one of which they be higher than my hips."

"Of course." The male angel snorted sharply, while watching his son play above him. "I wonder when he'll dare to come down for the rest of his food now."

"When he's tired himself out, I imagine." The female watched the boy chase one of the other kids, smiling faintly at his trouble to go fast enough. "Ah, the bane of robes..."

"Last I checked, _you_ once crashed into the buffet when we were small." Azrael defended the child.

"My mother had made me wear insane amounts of jewellery."

"You wore a dress, not several layers of formal robes..."

"Shut up."


	33. Chapter 32

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****32 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Orth tooted softly, mimicking the puppy-dog eyes of the little boy holding her.

"Are you sure you can resist that, Abaddon?" Azrael smirked lightly at his fellow parent.

"I'm sure I can, yes" Abaddon replied in annoyance. Looking down on Zeruch, he added. "Zeruch, no. You can't bring your Ortho with us. She must stay at the Barracks."

"But, but, she wants to come with us!" The young child looked tearfully at his elder, "Please can we take her with us?

"You can by me." Azrael smiled gently. "So it seems Abaddon is outvoted three to one."

"Toot." Orth squeaked, not really understanding the talk of the angels around her just yet.

"Azrael, an Ortho is not a pet! And what do you mean I'm outvoted?" Abaddon exclaimed in frustration. "Are you telling me you want a warsteed in the house?!"

"But she is small" Zeruch pointed out, hoping to change his Uncle's mind.

"She wouldn't stay like that forever and you know that, Zeruch."

"Abaddon, I have plenty of space in my house." Azrael rolled his eyes. "And you were outvoted on the matter of whether THIS Ortho will become a pet."

This Ortho in question squeaked a bit more, getting restless in the hold of the little angel. Zeruch petted her to calm her down and whispered: "Don't worry, Daddy will change Uncle's mind. He always does." Pets were nice... The little Ortho squeaked again, hoping to get more.

Feather all ruffled in annoyance, Abaddon shook his head. "Why do you want an Ortho in your house? I remembered you disliking being near one before."

"Because Zeruch wants her." The scholar pointed at the boy with the fluff ball in his arms. "And it's more that the adults do not like being near ME."

"Azrael, she will also become adult one day and she is bred to become a warsteed, not a house pet. And you are now spoiling the child." Abaddon humphed.

Zeruch began to hug his Ortho tighter, feeling sad at his Uncle refusing to take Orth with them.

"I have plenty of space for an adult as well." Azrael countered. "And would a mount not be much better when it has a strong bond with its' Rider?" He leaned down, offering scratches to the small featherball, who purred.

"You know that the Riders don't really have a particular mount. They are supposed to be able to ride most Orthos. I admit there are some who have a closer bond with certain ones, but that's very uncommon."

"Perfectly good reason to see if it'll help if they get assigned specific ones." Azrael pointed out. "Or would you not like the Ortho's to get far more effective in battle?"

Orth meanwhile tilted her head, attention having strayed to other, more interesting things than the conversation she could not understand.

Abaddon had to admit that Azrael may have a point. But still... "Can't Zeruch just visit the Barracks to train with her? Do you know how much care an Ortho requires? And once she reaches _adolescence, _she will become destructive. I seen enough Orthos tearing apart mannequins or other equipment when they having their spats."

"I can watch over Orth!" Zeruch piped up.

"Plus, we have you." Azrael added. "And who knows, maybe some proper bonding will help keep Orth from becoming destructive." He blinked in surprise when noticing that the little chicklet was trying to bat at his feathers. Smiling, he playfully moved it closer.

"Please Uncle, can I bring her home with me?" Zeruch begged softly. He was petting Orth on her fluffy head.

With a sigh, Abaddon gave in. "Alright, alright; Ortho can come with us. And Zeruch, it goes without saying that you are responsible for her."

"And one more for my account." Azrael smirked. "Why do I always win our arguments?"

"It's not my house the Ortho will trash", Abaddon answered smoothly.

"Says the one who forgot they are demanding we move together for the boy's sake." Azrael pointed out. "My house will be YOUR house as well."

Abaddon smirked back at Azrael, "I can at least flee back into my office at The Barracks"

Zeruch hopped around the two adults in happiness.

"I can flee to the entirety of the Argent Spire." Azrael dryly countered as Orth squeaked at being swung around. "Zeruch, you are holding someone."

"Oops, Sorry!" The young boy petted his feathery friend, trying to calm her down again. Orth tooted at the pets, trying to climb onto the boy holding her.

"And most of the furniture is yours."

"We'll replace mine with yours." Azrael smirked.

Abaddon sighed. "Coming along then, Zeruch. We need to inform Heyyel about your Ortho and also to get some supplies for her."

Zeruch nodded and followed his uncle. Orth meanwhile managed to settle on Zeruch's shoulder. "Toot."

"While you do that, I'll go replace my furniture." Azrael called after them.

"Don't you dare, Azrael!"

"I can't exactly join you to the stables, now can I?" The scholar shrugged.


	34. Chapter 33

**Category:****Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:****M**

**Couples:****Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:****AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****33 **

**Copyright:****Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The addition of the Ortho to the household was certainly an interesting one, particularly after Abaddon also moved into Azrael's mansion.

Much to Azrael's amusement, the proud General and small ball of fuzz hit it off perfectly... in other words; Abaddon was this close to murdering it after the first week. Abaddon complained that it acted as if it was a pampered Sphinx, a far smaller and tamer breed of the Griffon species, thus it was next to useless as a steed. Orth took offence of the General's tone and avenged her-self by gnawing on Abaddon's finest boots. The scholar thought it the perfect example of irony that the warrior's hopes for a powerful war-steed were being foiled by said war-steed enjoying antagonizing him.

The small animal became the scholar's companion, joining him everywhere in the house when she was not busy driving Abaddon up several walls.

Zeruch meanwhile blended right in with his angelic peers at school. Abaddon tried several more times to get him into the special classes for gifted children, failing every time to bypass Azrael's eagle eyes.

The only real problem came when Zeruch reached puberty. During history that year, the lessons also came to the Nephilim. The boy was traumatized. He had – and still did – worshipped his siblings... to now hear of the atrocities they might well have had part in broke something inside him.

The first day the subject had come up, Azrael came home to find the boy curled up in bed, Orth tooting softly as she tried to comfort him. It took the scholar a good while to get him somewhat presentable again.

Things became worse when it became apparent that the Nephilim had recovered from their losses in that one demon-attack and started on their vicious rampage once more. Azrael actually had to excuse Zeruch from school for a week, claiming the boy had fallen sick and needed to recuperate before he could rejoin lessons once more.

In fact, Azrael himself had to work at home as well, as the boy had actually fallen into depression, more than once demanding his parents just throw him back to the demons, as that was certainly a far better fate for him than being raised in the purity and luxury of Heaven. It took many hours of talking to his son; convincing him that no, he _did_ belong in Heaven with Azrael and Abaddon, and Zeruch himself already had proven that Nephilim were far more than just brutal savages.

The scholar's pearl-white eyes stared mournful at his slumbering son, while caressing his head. Orth had taken to sleeping close to her companion and nuzzling at his side, refusing to leave him alone while being in distress. Heaving out a sigh, Azrael prayed that the upcoming years would be kinder towards Zeruch.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

On a faithful day several years later, Zeruch gathered the last of his belongings while sighing and stuffed them haphazardly in his bag. Father would disapprove of this, but at the moment he didn't care. For a few weeks, there had been some kind of itch under his skin. It made him moody and irritable.

"Doesn't even respect what got thrown in his lap." Now Zeruch could hear whispers floating over, one of his classmates muttering it darkly.

"Agreed." Hasmed nodded, while throwing a gloomy glance towards Zeruch. "He clearly doesn't deserve to be adopted by two of the highest ranked angels."

At hearing this, the young Nephilim stood still like a marble statue; his blue eyes widening in disbelieve at his fellow classmates.

"You don't deserve to have Lord Azrael and Abaddon as your 'parents'." The other angel spoke up again. "You don't even appreciate just how lucky you are they decided to take pity on you."

The perplexed teen dropped his bag. Where THAT suddenly came from? "What do you mean I don't deserve my parents!? I, damn certainly appreciate them!"

"Tsk, look he is cursing already", Hasmed sneered at him. Folding his arms in front of him, he continued: "That is what I mean about being so undeserving.

"You're more demon than angel at this point." His friend pointed out. "It's almost disgracing that they bother with you."

"I'm no demon! Don't you dare to compare me to them!" Hissing at his classmates, Zeruch felt the itch becoming worse. His trembling hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

"Well, you were stuck for a long time with them. Who knows what kind of magic's they stuffed in you." The sneer became more sinister: "Instead of the Lords, The Circle should have put you back in the slum, where you clearly belong."

"Then again, how would they put him down there?" The other angel pointed out. "His family was so low on the ladder they didn't even exist. He might as well have been a demonic slave-born for all we know."

"You are right, Biztha. See, you might as well be non-existent to us. Well Nobody, what are you going to say about that?"

Grinding his teeth, Zeruch stared furious at the two. "I am no slave-born and I do have a Name! What is your problem of me being adopted by Azrael and Abaddon?"

"That you do not deserve it." Biztha pointed out while crossing his arms. "There are plenty of orphans who deserve that spot and of whom people actually KNOW things, unlike you, who literally came from a garbage-can as far as anyone can tell."

"They have actually family who could take care of them; I had no one." Suddenly, Zeruch felt calmer, or rather the more of the false type of calm; one that easily snapped into something else. Something more dark. "Is that why you are so annoyed?"

Hasmed looked bewildered at the suddenly calm looking teen. "What?!"

"I don't think he even knows Angelic, Hasmed." The other angel looked both amused and surprised. "'Orphan' means 'someone without family'… Seems even as the 'son' of the greatest scholar of Heaven, he can't use his brain."

Rolling with his eyes, Zeruch replied coldly: "I think You need to look up the definition, Biztha. 'Orphan' means 'a child who has lost both parents through death'. Unless you are one those people who like to talk stupid." Showing off his wide grin, he further pointed out. "Unlike your parents, mine chose to adopt me. At least I'm sure they wouldn't mourn about having me. Weren't you born 7 months after your parents' wedding, Hasmed? I'm sure your parents are happy with your failing results, Biztha." Zeruch should thank the gossiping staff for the information. Also, he needed to leave. Quick, for he wasn't sure how long this false calm was going to last.

"WHY YOU FILTHY LOWBORN!"

"Calm yourself, Hasmed." Biztha smiled serenely, resting a hand on his friend's arm. "Seems our little demon-spawn DOES have some brains. Yes, I am not getting the best grades... but last I checked, yours are failing as well... and Hasmed's parents might have gotten him a bit early, but at least he knows them. Who were _yours_ again?"

"Dead and you know that you..." Zeruch swallowed the last words. "Azrael and Abaddon are now my parents, nearly my whole life in matter in fact." He leant down to pick up his fallen bag. The young teen needed to leave as he could feel a burning energy crawl through his body; hollering to be released and rampage freely around him.

"You know I wasn't asking about them." Biztha smirked. "I'm talking about those that are either demon-slaves or somehow managed to drop you into Hell."

The Nephilim saw red.


	35. Chapter 34

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****34 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You beat up two of your classmates." Azrael's voice was toneless after he read the missive from his son's teacher. "Explain."

"They were taunting me and I got mad." The younger male murmured.

"What were they saying that you got mad enough to start attacking?" The Scholar put the scroll aside.

"Is it really important? I was in the wrong, anyway." Zeruch was sulking; he didn't want to repeat again what they had said.

"It is for me?" Azrael moved closer, lifting Zeruch's chin up so he could look at his son. "This isn't like you, Zeruch. I want to know why this happened."

"I don't want to... repeat what they said."

"Zeruch." Azrael stated strictly. "I want to know, because either you severely overreacted – which is unlikely - or they were VERY offensive."

Giving up, Zeruch said. "They told me I was undeserving of my adoption. Should have been put back in the slums or that I was more demon than angel. Can we talk about something else?"

Azrael sighed, looking between his son and the scroll. "For now, yes. Go wash up, dinner will probably be served soon."

The teen dashed upstairs in a hurry. Once he finished, he noticed that he wasn't that hungry anyway. He still could hear his their words in his mind. They weren't wrong; he wasn't an angel. And what disturbed him the most: he had loved punching their smug faces in. It felt... gratifying and freeing. All his tension was gone. Maybe they were right...

Walking into the diningroom, Abaddon shooed away Orth from himself. "We need to train her to stop attaching herself to my boots." He stared angrily at the fnooting ortho. "Spoilt mollycoddled pet."

"Abaddon, when will you stop that?" Azrael looked on as the animal bounced over to Zeruch for yet another attempt at cheering him up.

"Until she stops attacking my boots." The General retorted back. "Hello Zeruch, how was school?"

Leaning down, Zeruch petted Ortho on her head. "Was alright."

"For the most part." Azrael corrected him, gesturing to a scroll on the table. "He got into a fight."

"What?!" Abaddon grabbed the scroll and read through it. "You fought with TWO of your classmates? Why did You fight with two of your classmates?"

"They insulted him and his family." Azrael answered for Zeruch.

"And why would they do that?" He frowned, looking from Zeruch to Azrael and back.

"Was not a big deal" Zeruch mumbled moody about all of this.

"It was a big deal, since you attacked them." Abaddon's voice was stern.

"Jealousy, I assume." Azrael mused. "He did come from no background and then went and got US as his parents... I suspect some look less than favourable on him for that."

Abaddon looked at Zeruch. "You know better to start a fight with ignorant people." Sitting down at the table, the General added. "Zeruch, I think it's time we have a talk about your... situation. Azrael, can you ward off this room so we can talk without worrying about curious ears?"

"I'd sincerely want to know who'd dare to spy on my home." Azrael muttered, but did as the other angel asked. "There, short of the Charred Council or Samael, I sincerely doubt anyone can get past those."

"You'll be surprised what people love to gossip about," Abaddon made a face: he was too familiar how quickly the rumour mill could spin. "So, can you explain yourself? What has been going on the last few weeks?"

"Tis nothing." The teen grumbled, staring down at the plate in front of him.

"There is certainly something." Azrael gestured to the scroll. "We're not angry, Zeruch, but you have changed. It's... concerning. Your grades are suddenly failing, most of the time you are pacing around like some caged Ortho, you snap at everybody, even at Damianah, and now even getting into fights! It's not like you at all."

"I'm fine..."

"No you're not!"

Azrael reached out one hand to rest it on Abaddon's arm. "If you are fine, what is going on? You know you can tell us if you have some trouble."

Zeruch couldn't hold it in any longer at that. "FINE, EVERYTHING IS WRONG WITH ME!" He almost jumped up and began to pace in agitation. "I can't concentrate because I want punch, no, destroy something. I keeping getting these urges to... I don't know! People are keeping telling me that I shouldn't be here, because I'm acting more like demon than angel. And also..." Zeruch kept on ranting all his frustrations out.

Azrael looked at him with something akin to sadness in his eyes. "I was afraid of this." Getting up, he reached for Zeruch. "Could this be something natural to Nephilim?"

"I don't know." Standing still, he glazed unfocused at a wall. "During the fight and shortly after, I felt calm for the first time in weeks. I could think clearly again." The next few words were spoken in soft voice. "I loved beating them up."

Azrael blinked a few times at that. "Then I suspect this might indeed be part of his Nephilim-nature." He looked at his fellow parent.

Abaddon sighed. "Perhaps you need a way to, lets say, vent your frustrations."

"Abaddon..." Azrael muttered darkly. "Stop using everything as an excuse to try and get him into those early classes."

"I'm not trying to get him in the early classes, not this time." Irritated and insulted by Azrael, Abaddon gestured at Zeruch. "He needs something to get rid off his need to fight and unlike the Nephilim, we cannot throw him at enemies. "

"I can fight off the urge." Zeruch felt bad making his parents worry about him.

"Not forever and we shouldn't let it to reach it to boiling point and spill it over to hair trigger violence." Abaddon reached out towards his son.

"Having Zeruch fall comatose every evening is also not going to solve the problem." Azrael pointed out. "I'd much prefer if we can think of something else."

Abaddon pulled a face. "I'm not going to train him till he falls over, Azrael."

"No, your teachers will." Azrael dryly countered. "Let's have those classes be plan T or something, shall we?"

Rolling with eyes and muttering about how the mystic has no confidence in his fellow warriors, Abaddon then proposed: "Well then, we could try meditation for Zeruch?"

"Meditation? I can hardly sit still!" No way that could help him!

"It is worth a try." Azrael answered. "Or do you want to risk beating up even more people?"

"No, but..." Zeruch exhaled and looking even more down. "I barely can concentrate on my own studies, so how can I get myself to do that?!"

"Well, that's the point of meditation... to get concentration." Azrael smiled gently. "How do you think I deal with Abaddon on a daily basis? Half of my time in the Argent Spire is just meditating to deal with him."

"Uhmm, I can try I guess." The boy stared at his father while wondering how he would be able to empty his head.

"Can't do much more than that." Azrael briefly smirked at Abaddon. "We can meditate together then. Will you join us, Abaddon?"

"After I've eaten my fill." The General rubbed his temple.

Despite everything, that made Zeruch chuckle.

"Glad that made you happy."

"Family-bonding via Meditation." Azrael chuckled as well. "Well, there's worse things to bond over..."


	36. Chapter 35

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****35 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

**Author's Note: Who wants to read 'Abaddon's apology'? **

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Combined with a side-job as errand-boy for the Argent Spire, the meditations proved enough to tide over the boy until he could – even with Azrael's approval – enrol in the warrior-trainings offered at Heaven's barracks.

For the two years between the incident where he had beaten two of his classmates into the hospital-wing and the required age of fifteen, one could see the child fly between the Argent Spire and the offices at the barracks after school. Sometimes, he'd carry an entire bag full of scrolls, sometimes only a few. Naya'il would join him at times, the two chasing each other through the white towers that made up the city.

Which Abaddon managed to mess up as well, to the Scholar's ire: as something of an olive branch from the warrior, they had agreed that Zeruch would take the easier training-circuit, simply since Azrael knew how the children in the harder circuit ended up. Quite jokingly, the easier one was often called 'Scholar training' as most of the time the recruits in there came from scholar-families.

Despite his son ostensibly being in those classes, Azrael noticed in worry that the young male sometimes collapsed without even eating upon returning home from a day at training.

Some inquiries with other scholars whose children had chosen a life of war quickly made him realize that something was up. A chance meeting and chat with Nathaniel proved his fears: Naya'il was in the same situation as Zeruch, arriving home half-comatose... and she was not enrolled in the easy circuit.

"Abaddon?" Azrael had decided to bring a visit to his fellow parent after that. "Do you need to be anywhere soon?"

The General's wing twitched lightly at the tone of voice. What had he done wrong now? "Not really, why?"

"I had a really interesting conversation with Nathaniel a bit ago." Azrael locked the door behind him before he moved over to the desk. "Do you know what he told me?"

"Naya'il is doing well in the training?" The warrior got up, eyes narrowing at the locked door.

"Equally well as Zeruch..." Azrael poked the armoured chest with his finger. "Equally _comatose_. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Should I...?"

"I checked..." Azrael moved even closer until their chests were nearly touching. "She's in the hard circuit... Why is our son, ostensibly in the easy circuit, as exhausted as someone in the hard circuit?"

"The Easy circuit is not that easy, Azrael. Recruits do get tired from it." Abaddon backed away a bit.

"Even the children of other scholars are not as tired." The scholar hissed. "You enrolled him in the hard circuit, did you not? You just couldn't resist putting your 'perfect little warrior' in there, could you!?"

"What? No!" The wings of the warrior floofed at the accusation. "We agreed on the easy circuit, Azrael. Why would I risk your ire by breaking that agreement? You even saw me fill out the paperwork necessary!"

"To get your dream-warrior, of course." His fellow parent countered sharply. "That's certainly no assurance that you send it though. It wouldn't be the first time you 'forgot' to fill something out."

"But I send it..." At least, he thought he had. Hadn't he? Incidentally, he had not, simply having lost it in the piles of paperwork on his desk. It was going to take him quite a while and quite some bribing to make Azrael forgive him that one


	37. Chapter 36

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****36 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As it could not be changed anymore, Zeruch stayed in the heavy circuit for warrior-children. After the initial acclimatization-period, he took to it swimmingly to the point that Azrael and Abaddon – the latter in fear of the former's wrath – had to regularly stop the teachers from increasing the boy's workload, just to see if he could handle it.

After the first year, recruits were expected to stay in the barracks until their training was finished. Zeruch quickly became a favourite among his peers for various reasons mostly related to the fact that he had never developed the habit of 'egging' which was a favoured way of angelic sleeping. As such, during the colder parts of the year, he could be the one to throw blankets over the eggs his fellow recruits formed without them having to feel guilty that he had to sleep in a bed. In fact, after a while they started squabbling about who would be allowed to egg beneath his wings during those months. The sight was certainly a memorable one.

There were certainly incidents during the decade-long program that had one of his parents be less than amused. The most memorable of these for Abaddon was the 'accident' the boy had had two years into it. Learning of his lessons in fire and stone-magics – and the teacher's decision to have him focus heavily on those – some of his friends insisted he show them his skill.

Said demonstration of skill resulted in one barrack burning down.

That was the most furious Abaddon had ever been with his son, resulting in disciplinary action that would over the eons become legendary; the General ordered the boy he had adopted to fly twenty laps around the central city. For the first time in a good while, Zeruch was near-comatose come evening.

The infamy of said punishment was only rivalled by the incident near the end of Zeruch's training. Despite their admiration among the warriors, Azrael had sworn bloody retribution against Abaddon should the General even so much as think about having their son join the Champions. The scholar compared them to a cult.

So when Heaven's finest mystic heard his son repeat their eternal mantra – "We are the shields, we are the swords, we are the defence of Heaven." – and saw the boy with a group of them... suffice to say, Abaddon's newest recruits had the dubious honor of taking care of kitten-shaped Champions for the week it took the great warrior to get his fellow parent to turn them back.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Enjoying the view?" Nathaniel sat down beside Azrael, feeling amused at how the scholar stood out among the warriors that were attending the ceremony.

"I've seen better. With more books." Azrael looked at the other male. "Where's your wife?"

"On duty." The bald angel briefly rearranged his wings behind him. The two of them were sitting on benches lining the main training-grounds. "Abaddon cannot give every parent leave when graduation hits."

"True." Azrael threw a glance at his fellow parent over at the podium that had been build for today. "Alas, his fate has been sealed: my child will be a warrior."

"I heard you intend to ensure he spends most of his on-duty time at the Argent Spire." Nathaniel leaned back lightly.

"Of course." The mystic smiled lightly. "Where else would Azrael's son be expected to be?"

"True." The warrior wondered how much longer it was until the ceremony would start. "I'm surprised his grandparents are not here. I figured at least Abaddon's would not miss this for anything in the world."

The blue-clad male sighed softly. "Don't I know it. I remember the scene they made when Abaddon first introduced Zeruch to them. I asked my parents to keep them busy."

"The power of Firstborn." The armoured male stated with some amusement. "Did they not wish to see this?"

"They assured me they understood why I asked it." They both fell silent when the ceremony started, lasting for much of the day.

"Feel the warmongering yet now that you are a full-fledged warrior?" Azrael asked when joining his other two family-members.

"Nah." Zeruch grinned widely. "How do I look?"

Now that he was a full warrior, he also wore the armour he would wear for the rest of his life; his wings, proudly spread, framed his new Storm Warden armour. Aside from his coming duties in the Argent Spire, he would also be specialized in the use of an Ortho in combat.

"Every bit the proud warrior you always wanted to be." Azrael briefly clasped his son's hands. "At least now I'll be seeing you more often that the few days Abaddon gives you off."

"Well, excuse me if I don't do special treatments." Abaddon muttered, frowning lightly.

Azrael coughed something that sounded a lot like 'twenty laps around the city' in answer, before looking over at his son. "I wish you luck getting Orth to behave long enough for the specialisation though."

"I'm sure I'll manage." The younger male smirked still.

"If she refuses, he just gets a new one." The General beside him muttered darkly. "A proper one, this time."


	38. Chapter 37

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****37 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Azrael?" Abaddon entered the room, looking mildly annoyed. "_Why_ is Zeruch assigned to the Argent Spire for roughly the next decade? And how did you even do that when the regular schedules are only for a year at most!?"

"You damn well know why, Abaddon." The scholar looked up at his fellow parent, briefly putting aside the paperwork he had been working on. "What were you expecting to happen when I found out?"

"Found out what?" The General sat down on the edge of the desk. "He is a Wing Commander in the Hellguard now. What do you suggest do I do with his subordinates now that he apparently is non-existent?"

"Get his second-in-command to lead them."The mystic stated dryly. "And I am talking about his 'Flaming Meteorite'-move."

"Oh..." Abaddon muttered. He had been hoping that Azrael would not find out about that particular thing. Apparently, at some point their only child had figured out that he could use his stone and fire magics defensively, creating protective layers of these two elements over his skin. It had taken several of the other Generals even less time to suggest he combine them. In several battles Zeruch had used this combined protection of fire and stone to hurl himself down from up high into the fray like a... well, like a meteorite. The resulting impact and explosions usually decimated the enemy forces in the nearby vicinity.

"'Oh' indeed." The rune-winged angel answered softly. "I am not amused, Abaddon, I hope you realize that."

"In my defence, this time it wasn't me." Though the warrior would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

"If you were, you'd be a cat by now." His fellow parent gently chuckled.

"True." The other male chuckled as well at the memory. "Still, with all due respect, Azrael, you simply _cannot _steal him whenever you get upset about things. First of all, he's a couple millennia old by now, way beyond where you should be motherhenning him and secondly, he is a _Wing Commander_. There's quite literally a substantial part of the Hellguard depending on his leadership. I cannot take them out of rotation or something like that for a decade!"

"I know..." The other male sighed, reaching for a piece of paper. "Here are your real rosters... Though, can you just try to make him stop?"

"I'll try." Abaddon patted the other's shoulder.

"In revenge..." Azrael rested his hand on the armoured one on his shoulder. "Did you know that Zeruch is sending love-letters?"

"Really?" The other male smirked. "I assume you also know who? Some warrior, by chance?"

"Gabriel, actually." The scholar snorted at the other's face. "I did tell you how he was when he first met her."

"He was five." The General pointed out. "It's been several millennia since then. She has great grand-children his age! Please tell me she has no interest in him."

"She's conflicted, actually." The emerald-robed male chuckled. "Yes, he is the age of several great grand-children she has, but apparently his letters are quite lovely and thoughtful according to her. She thinks it quite flattering he's interested in her after all these years."

"Please tell me you are joking..."

Azrael was stopped from answering when someone stormed into his office.

"Uncle!" It was Zeruch, looking utterly terrified. "You need to send me somewhere far and long away, please!"

The two elder angels nearly floofed at his panicked voice.

"Why?" Abaddon demanded, letting go of Azrael.

"Naya'il has been signing my letters!" The young male rushed forward. "Please, you _have_ to hide me!"

"Well... I have a post of Outpost Garrison-Commander that needs to be filled in Silverwall...?" The General actually backed away a bit when his son clung to his fur.

"Alright, I'm packing." Zeruch teleported away, forgetting to let go of the fur of his uncle and taking it along as he did so.

"That just happened?" Azrael snorted lightly. "Poor Zeruch."

Abaddon was quite close to laughter as well. "He let Naya'il copy his letters in her nicer handwriting without checking them after? He kind of deserved this."


	39. Chapter 38

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:****38 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Azrael looked up when someone knocked on his door. This was becoming a habit. "Enter." One eyebrow rose when seeing who entered. "Gabriel, what brings you here?"

"I want to know something." She closed the door behind herself, heading over to his desk to sit down on one of the chairs. "Do you have time?"

"If it doesn't take too long, certainly." The other scholar put aside his work, levitating over some wine with a mere gesture. "It must be serious if you come to me during work-time."

"Well, not that serious." She chuckled lightly. "What happened to Zeruch? Normally I'd get a letter once a week, but it's been two months by now. Considering the... content, I didn't think he'd tire that quickly of me..."

Azrael snorted lightly at that. "Oh, I do not think he tired of you. He just fled the White City – for Silverwall, should that interest you."

"Fled... the City?" The female had been about to take a drink of her wine, but now lowered it again. "Why would he flee the city?"

"Apparently, he did not know that the letters were signed." Zeruch's father grinned at the memory. "His handwriting is atrocious and he had asked Naya'il to copy them for him. Without his knowledge, she had been adding his name to them for... well, however long it was you got signed letters. He found out, stormed into this room like half of Hell was on his heels and insisted Abaddon send him far away. Now he's the Garrison-Commander of Silverwall."

Despite her surprise, Gabriel couldn't help but giggle at the idea. "The poor thing. And he's not intending to come back?"

"He was – and probably still is – mortified." The male scholar leaned back in his seat a bit. "I do think he was just aiming for these 'venting-letters' people nowadays engage in when enamoured with someone they deem beyond their reach. While he'd no doubt be overjoyed to get a chance to be with you, I don't think he was in any way expecting or prepared for having to actually face you over them."

The female actually looked flattered at that. "So what would he do if I went to talk with him?"

"Don't tell me you're actually contemplating taking him as your lover?" Azrael blinked a few times. While he most assuredly would not mind getting her as a daughter-in-law, he was not sure whether it would be a good idea. "Gabriel, the City will explode with speculation if you do. He kind off _is_ young enough to be your great-something-grandchild."

"Doesn't it always?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what kind of men I like, Azrael. He would fit from what I've seen. Plus, I am not going to marry him right away, despite rumours to the contrary regarding my second husband I do not do this, but I would be lying if I didn't say I am... fond of him. I showed you one of his letters. They are certainly capable of turning a girl's head."

"Don't get either of you hurt though." The rune-winged angel rose to his feet. "And try to dodge Abaddon should he accept your courtship... he had been hoping to get Zeruch with a nice warrior-woman and make all the warrior-babies." He quirked a grin. "He won't look favourably on a scholar ruining that plan."

"No doubt." Gabriel rose as well. "So, Silverwall, you said?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You're a traitor." Zeruch muttered darkly, looking over the paperwork he had to send to his uncle come morning.

"You said that a good couple times already these last two months." Opposite him, behind her own desk, was his Second-in-Command and the reason why he was even in this outpost to begin with. When Naya'il had found out that he had gotten transferred, she had posted a request to be allowed to join him as his Second once again. "You should instead be grateful: if not for me, you'd still be getting nowhere with Gabriel. Honestly, you'd been writing her for ages by the time I started helping you."

"You signed my name under those letters!" Her superior hissed. "Gabriel wasn't supposed to ever find out! I was vent-writing, Naya, not trying to get her."

"Don't be such a chicken..." After centuries of being his Second, Naya'il was probably one of few that could shrug of his intimidating anger like it was nothing. "Honestly, considering she didn't have you court-martialled or anything like that, I bet she liked them even after finding out they came from you. You might just stand a chance."

"I most assuredly do not. I am nowhere near good enough... or even appropriately ranked, for that matter. Even _if_ she would reciprocate – which is darn unlikely anyway, I could be her descendant a dozen generations down – we'd just end up like Raciel and Hadrimon. I don't want to end up like either of those two. And I certainly don't want _her_ to end up like either of those too. She's too good for that."

"You're always so negative about yourself." Oblivious to his true nature, his friend kept insisting that he really should work on his self-esteem. It was quite frankly horribly low, as far as she was concerned. But how could one have high self-esteem when almost monthly, new word of atrocities of one's kin filtered into Heaven. Kothysos had been a slaughter-ground, from what little information Heaven had received about it. Abaddon had been unwilling to risk any to scout the battle-field and so the angels had been reliant on some surviving Old Ones who had fled into the sanctity of the White City after the battle had left the planet a barren wasteland.


	40. Chapter 39

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **M**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **38 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Again," Zeruch commanded, observing his troops repeating their routine; making sure that everyone's posture was proper and had kept up with their regime.

"My lord." Naya'il glided down to his level. "I have received word from the White City. A high official is going to arrive for a visit at the outpost in approximately 2 hours."

Frowning at his second in command, the Garrison Commander asked: "Any word of why a high official is coming here?" Silverwall didn't really contain any valuable artefacts that would interest anyone and demonic activity was low at the moment. He made sure of that.

"The missive stated personal reasons, though it did not elaborate on those." She allowed herself a small shrug. "I suspect the only reason they even bothered sending it is to make sure you can play welcoming-committee."

He managed to stop a loud groan spilling from his mouth. This was the reason why he rather stay a wing commander than this kind of job despite his uncle's insistence. But he had been too panicked when he accepted the job to consider this. "Alright then, you take over the training while I'm going to make me and my office more presentable."

"By your command, my lord." Naya'il quirked him a small grin before banking off to do his bidding.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Gabriel arrived on the minute at the outpost, smiling lightly as she looked up the battlements.

Tugging at his amulets, Zeruch steeled himself to meet the arrival. Heading outside, he began: "Greetings and welcome to Silverwall. I'm the…." His tongue turned heavier than lead, when he saw who was waiting at the courtyard.

"Thank you, Commander." Gabriel flew over to him, gently setting down on the ground in front of him. "You have done fine work here, if I may say so." There was an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"I… uhm… I mean…" Turning impossible red, Abaddon's child stumbled over his words. "T-thank you, Lady Gabriel." He barely stopped himself from hiding within his own wings. Why, why was she here?! Is it to complain about the letters? "Please, my Lady come inside, to my office. To… wait I mean…"

"Lead the way, Commander." She stepped up to him, offering him her arm. "It took me far too long to get here. Apparently, there was trouble at a different outpost and Abaddon insisted I take a larger guard." She gestured to the four Champions who had touched down a respectful distance from the pair.

Taking in a deep breath in vain effort to try to calm himself, Zeruch nodded and gently took her arm. "So I have heard, my Lady. Please follow me." With a gesture, he sent two watchmen towards the Champions, to bring them to the resting quarters. He tried his so very best not to walk with large strides towards his office, while guiding the lithe angel.

"I assume you must have become quite busy with this promotion." Gabriel followed him, a small smile still playing around her lips. "I didn't receive any more letters from you."

A large banshee screech echoed in his head at the last sentence. _DAMN YOU, NAYA!_ "I had to somewhat acclimatise to my new duty. And demons. And all the paperwork that comes with those..." Zeruch cleared his throat. "I apologise. For the letters."

"Why? They were quite lovely. I missed them when you stopped sending them." Gabriel mused. "It has been quite a while since someone expressed an interest in courtship with me. Most deem me too old… or a Golden Widow, as they dubbed me."

"I…" She liked _them_? Zeruch quickly pushed down his excitement. No, remember the proper angelic protocol. "Still, it wasn't correct of me to write them." He kept his visage neutral. They approached the office door, so he gently let go of her arm to open it for her.

"Oh, I can agree." She waited until he had opened the door, entering the office. "It was highly inappropriate how long you took to actually start _signing_ them. Almost as if you didn't mean them quite as seriously as their text might make me believe."

He actually cringed at that statement. "I have to confess that those letters were never meant to be signed. Na- a friend of mine was supposed to only write down what I've written. My lettering is… not that great." That was an understatement. "However, my friend suddenly decided to add my name without my knowledge." Zeruch bowed low at Gabriel. "I apologise once again for the letters and for the inconvenience they have caused."

"So I heard." Gabriel smiled lightly. "But I forgive you." Her smile became a small grin. "If you forgive me for doing something that might well break Abaddon's heart…"

Zeruch still looked down, not daring to remove his eyes from the tile floor. Mentally preparing for Gabriel's verdict, he hoped that Abaddon wouldn't be too torn at him being demoted.

"I know I am smaller than you, but not by that much." Gabriel tilted his head up to look at her. "Zeruch, will you break Abaddon's heart and allow me to court you?"

"I beg your pardon?" His brain stopped working at the question.

"Will you allow me to court you? Potentially marry you, et cetera, et cetera?" Her grin was knowing now, probably realizing exactly the – lack of – mental process he had to be having now. "And here I thought you were enough of Azrael's child not to get a shut-down up there at a mere question."

"But, but my Lady, my rank is not suf-", he stammered.

She waved his words away before he had even finished speaking them. "You are the child of two of my equals, Zeruch. Short of Abaddon's grief at you with a scholar, there is nothing outside of our own wishes that could stop a courtship."

Zeruch still couldn't believe his ears. "You don't mind our differences in age? I don't have the same amount of experiences." Compared to her, he was a mere welp, barely interesting to her.

"Should I get you some of your letters and read them to you?" Gabriel graced him with a flat stare. "Some of those passages were… quite open to interpretation, my dear."

"Please don't." Pressing his palms against his lightblue eyes, Zeruch whispered: "Why would you want to court me? I'm just a…"

"It's not too late for me to read those letters to you." The golden-winged female stated dryly. "They are a compelling argument."


	41. Chapter 40

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **T**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **40 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hesitantly, Zeruch accepted her offer of a courtship. She had to return to the White City shortly after that, though inviting him over for a dinner two weeks hence. The next day, he travelled to the White City himself, rushing to the home of his parents. Despite him having moved out, Abaddon and Azrael stayed together out of convenience. At that moment in time, only Abaddon was actually home, which was a rarity.

"Well, hello there." He smiled warmly at his son, though that soon turned to a grimace when hearing Orth loudly announce her return to the garden outside. "What brings you here? I thought you didn't have a free day until next month?"

"It'll only be a few hours." Zeruch assured him. "But I needed to talk to one of you."

"Then you might want to wait until Azrael gets back." The General joked, gesturing to the couch in the corner of his office. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Gabriel asked for a courtship." The younger male whispered, falling down on the piece of furniture.

His uncle resisted the urge to bemoan the loss of his child to the scholarly female, knowing that this was more serious. "Isn't this what you wanted for... quite a while? I believe Azrael mentioned something of letters being sent for years?" He headed for a cabinet discretely set in the corner of the room, pulling some wine from it.

"Well... yes." The Nephilim accepted the glass he was offered. "But there was a reason that I send them un-signed. We can never be together!"

"Nonsense." Abaddon sat down beside his child. "Rank-wise you two are ideal. No doubt she told you that as well when offering the courtship."

"Rank-wise, perhaps..." Blue eyes looked up in despair at the other. "But what about Race-wise!? I am a Nephilim! I... I can't..." He buried his face in one hand, still holding his glass. "I... I would defile her."

Heaven's greatest General could only flinch at that. "Zeruch..."

"You and Dad might say that the place of my 'birth' does not matter, but it _does_." The outpost-commander rambled. "Completely aside from the fact that she deserves far better than some _half-demon_, what if we ever lay together!? There is a good chance our children will be wingless. I'll be revealed to the entirety of Heaven and Creation. You'll be revealed. They'll kill me, they..."

That was about the point where his parent interfered. Azrael might by far have been the better person for this talk, but Abaddon would not let his child belittle himself in such a way. "They will do no such thing. They would not dare. I cannot say anything about the wings of your children – for all we know Azrael changed you down to the genetic level – but you are _our_ child, Zeruch and you'll remain that for the rest of eternity. As such, your race literally does not matter."

"Perhaps by law." The younger male all but spat. "Just as by law, my history before being adopted should not have mattered to people either. Raciel and Hadrimon _should_ not have even considered starting anything together..."

"Raciel and Hadrimon were fools." Abaddon pointed out sharply. "Your race does not matter, my son." It was a term he rarely used to address the young male, but he felt like 'Zeruch' would not cut it this time around. "You are the text-book example of an angel. Any who would judge you on your race are fools."

"Enough fools can still cause plenty of trouble." Refusing to meet the fierce gaze of his caretaker, the words were barely muttered. "How would the Throne react to you and Azrael bringing a Nephilim into the city? You said yourself that the Charred Council has reason to believe that they will head for Eden soon."

"Considering the Throne is the uncle of your father, I don't think he'll cause nearly as much trouble as you'd think." Abaddon snorted. "Take this gift of Gabriel's courtship – Creator knows she does it rarely, despite being married thrice already – and face trouble when it arises. There is neither need nor use in creating it. For all we know, you'll see sense and the courtship falls flat."

Zeruch snorted at that."I don't think that'll happen."

Abaddon sighed theatrically. "Well, then face the consequences of you being Nephilim should they arise."


	42. Chapter 41

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **T**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **41 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"You know that you can relax, right?" Gabriel smiled lightly at the man standing beside her couches. "Have a seat, Zeruch. No demon will suddenly storm in here just because we are having dinner together."

Trying to not to blush - he was an adult for Creator's sake - Zeruch took her invitation to sit down. "You have a wonderful home, my Lady." He clung to a package in his hands, but after a deep breath, he presented it to Gabriel. "For you, my Lady. A token of my affections."

"Thank you." She accepted it, gesturing for her maid to pour them drinks while opening it.

After thanking the maid for the drink, Zeruch waiting worriedly at Gabriel's reaction; he hoped he had made the correct decision to trust Naya'il to help him with choosing the gift.

She carefully lifted the necklace from its' resting-place. "My, this is lovely." Gabriel held it out to him. "Could you assist me with putting it on?"

"Gladly, my Lady." He helped her clasp the golden necklace around her graceful neck. The golden pendant with carved Angelic runes glistered in the light of the candles spending light in her room.

"Thank you." She briefly rested her hand on his when she adjusted the gold to rest properly around her neck. "You're suddenly off in a hurry with this, aren't you?"

His wings pressing tightly against his back. Zeruch wondered if he went too quickly by giving Gabriel a gift already. "I thought that... I..."

Gabriel chuckled. "My, you are truly lacking in self-confidence, aren't you? Do not fret so, Zeruch. I am quite happy with the speeds at which this is going. You'd know if I wasn't."

Letting out a sigh, Zeruch tried to relax more. "I have to admit: it's been awhile." Lightly shaking out his wings to release the tension, he continued: "But that's not too important. How was your day, my Lady? I heard from father that there were many meetings the last few days."

"Ah, that is more Azrael's domain, thank Creator." She chuckled again when hearing his wings shake. "Though yes, even I had to attend plenty of meetings. How is your outpost? Still with too much demons and paperwork?"

"There are few demon dare to attack the outpost nowadays. The paperwork, though." Zeruch sighed and shook his head. "I'm glad my second is very competent with assisting with those. Never understood how General Abaddon does it by himself."

"If I have to believe your father... poorly." She reached for his hand, tugging on it. "Come here, sit down again. Or are you so hungry you want dinner already?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

While their son was having his first date with Gabriel, Azrael and Abaddon had to attend far loftier matters; a summons from the Charred Council had come, requesting their presence in the domain of Balance's Keepers.

There they met not only with the three flaming idols, but also the Dark Prince himself… and Samael as well. Abaddon's hand immediately went to the pommel of his sword, but he stopped himself just barely. Starting a fight in the domain of the Council had never been a good idea.

**"We summoned you here to introduce you to some people." **One of the heads stated, breaking the tense silence between the two factions in front of them.

"Why does that involve summoning us here?" Azrael asked, his wings switching. He kept his hands in his robes.  
**"To ensure you understand the weight of whom we introduce."** Another head spoke up, fire and smoke pouring from its' orifices.

"You couldn't just send them over with a message?" The Dark Prince snarled in annoyance.

**"No." **The center head countered. **"Meet our newest enforcers; we call them the Horsemen."**

All four of them felt someone approach from behind. Two more people had arrived on the outcropping. Azrael's eyes narrowed at the sight of them. Both of them did not belong to either race present here.

"Nephilim?" Samael demanded. "And here I thought the Charred Council would not entrust the Balance to those threatening it the most."

**"They have broken with their kin."** One of the heads sharply countered. **"They serve us now. And only us. They will be sufficiently empowered as well."**

Abaddon resisted a snarl. "Lovely." He crossed his arms. "So with whom do we have the pleasure dealing with from now on?"

"I am Death, and this is my sister Fury." The male in front stated, a bone-mask hiding his face. The purple-haired female stayed silent, an electric whip hanging rolled up at her hip.

**"They will ride Creation at our will. It is suggested you do not test them."**


	43. Chapter 42

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **T**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **42 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"It's been over a decade now, Zeruch!" Naya'il exclaimed in frustration. "She's been courting you for _over a decade_ and you just won't take that final step? Why?"

"People hardly get married within a decade, Naya." Zeruch muttered darkly, trying to concentrate on his paperwork, but his friend always compensated for her small size by being made from pure volume if she felt the situation called for it. "Also, I am very certain you haven't finished your share of the work yet."

"To the Well with the work." She snarled. "I'm not expecting you to marry Gabriel, but I am expecting you to be engaged at least. _Monks_ don't take this long."

"Monks are required to stay abstinent." Her commander dryly answered that statement.

"Exactly!" His second-in-command exclaimed. "Creator, what is _wrong_ with you!? She's the biggest catch among the women of Heaven short of Iaoel… who doesn't count because she is a Firstborn." She slammed her hands on the desk. "And you're just sitting here instead of using the fact that she wants you to your advantage."

"Naya'il." The blue-eyed warrior glared at her. "Mind your words."

"Then explain to me the 'why'!" The glare passed by her without any effect. "You two have become a bigger dream-pair than your parents ever were in the eons people put them together! I want to bet she has wanted to progress for years now, so why don't you?"

"There have been far longer courtships than this one." Zeruch abruptly rose from his seat, heading to fetch a book from the bookcase on the opposite side of the office.

"For people that did not know one another beforehand!" She did not follow him, her wings beating in her agitation. "For people that did not write letters for years!"

"She hardly knew me." His wings were tight against his back, muscles tense.

"She knew you well enough to initiate the courtship." The small female snarled. "Why are you so stubborn!? I have seen you two together whenever she visits here! Creator, she is this close to throwing propriety down the Well and jumping at you! Did you even _see_ some of the outfits she wore the last few times!? Those were more appropriate in a bedroom of a married couple… or prostitutes, fo…"

"Don't you dare call her that!" His voice beat against her like a storm, but even that hardly fazed Naya'il. Mostly because she knew that if she didn't throw him off his equilibrium, Azrael's teachings of serenity would mean she might as well talk to a wall. Though she always would apologize later on.

"Then. Tell. Me. Why!?" She did step back a bit, his blue eyes blazing. "What is keeping you from her!? Why are you keeping yourself from her!?"

Zeruch, the rising star of the White City, deflated after a short staring-match between them. "I am not worthy of her."

"What." She almost whispered at that only to have her voice rise sharply. "Are you even more insane!? Why the Hell would you be unworthy of her? You're the son of her equals, projected to become a greater warrior than Abaddon himself! If anything, she'd be more likely to be unworthy of you!"

"You don't understand." He turned away from her, clutching his desk.

"Then explain it to me." She would not let him, almost flapping her way into his desk so she could see his face. "Because I can't understand if you don't explain."

His shoulders sagged while he turned his face away from her.

"Zeruch." She beseeched him, flying around him to catch his gaze.

He finally mumbled something, pushing off from the wooden piece of furniture to head over to the window.

"I am not Orth, Zeruch, I can't understand mumbles." She left him his space, remaining at the desk.

She saw his grip on his own arms tighten. "I am a Nephilim."

"What."

"I'm a Nephilim!" He snapped at her, trembling now. "I… I will _never _be worthy enough for her. I would taint her, defile her... I... I..." He backed away, sliding down the wall he hit. "That's why I never wanted her to know those were my letters…"

"You're… a Nephilim?" The pure-blooded angel echoed, backing away as well. Had Zeruch been looking at her, he'd have seen thousands of thoughts shoot through her mind. "Oh Creator, that makes so much sense!" She exploded into laughter, clutching her sides.

"What." Now it was his turn to look confused.

"You being a Nephilim, it explains so much." The smaller angel snorted. "I always wondered why you were so weird when we were small… Your eyes and… well, you in general, I guess." She gestured him over. Even crouched down as he was, it was clearly visible he had surpassed even Abaddon in size, towering over almost any angel anyone could name including nearly all of Heaven's vaunted Firstborn. "But if you're half-demon… well, that explains all that, doesn't it?"

"You're not upset?" He blinked at his still snickering friend.

"I know you, Zeruch, you're more angelic than many angels… honestly, taking this long to get going in a relationship." She shook her head, chuckling at his astonished face. "Oh my god, does that mean you got your cute, tiny fangs from your other side of the family?" She poked his cheek. "Though I think you got your chubby cheeks from the angels…"

"I don't have chubby cheeks!" He flapped his wings at her, hiding behind the thick feathers.

"Sure you do." She ducked under them, squishing her friend's face. "Creator, you got to be the cutest Nephilim around."

"Stop that."

"Hell no."


	44. Chapter 43

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **T**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **43 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Thank you for meeting me like this." Zeruch greeted the female when he entered her home. He inwardly flinched when seeing that Naya'il had been right; Gabriel was dressed in what could only barely be considered appropriate for the level of their relationship. Oh Creator, what had he done? He should never have started this entire thing to begin with!

"Not a problem. I have the week off, so you chose an opportune moment to need a talk." Her voice was as it always was, so he couldn't even tell if she realized that he had not made this visit for a date. Inwardly he tensed while following her to her sitting-room. After Naya's not so gentle demands for the reasons of his hesitation, he had quickly realized that this was not a state their relationship could continue with. It was simply cruel to leave her hanging like that. Creator knew how long she had truly wanted to progress all this. "So what did you need to talk about that it was this short-hand? Normally we make these dates weeks beforehand."

"Well… Naya opened my eyes some things." He muttered, looking away a bit. Oh, how he longed to be small again and have Azrael be the one to deal with these kind of things! "Things I probably should have brought up a good while ago… before we got this far."

"Such as?" For most people, her face did not change, but after ten years of courtship he could see that she tensed ever so slightly.

"Well…" He took a deep breath. "Did you never wonder how come no one ever found my family? Or even just a mention of them and me?"

"I think a good part of Heaven itself wondered that at some point." She leaned back a little. "What does that have to do with you apparently having kept some important secret?"

"We always knew where I came from… we just couldn't get me there on time." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"How come?" Came the inevitable question.

"I am a Nephilim." He spoke so quickly he felt like he didn't even breathe during that sentence, but the overwhelming silence from across him made it quite clear she had understood him.

The clear whoosh of a teleport made her answer very clear as well. He shrunk on his spot on her couch, waiting for the inevitable guards that would no doubt be summoned at this very moment.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After millennia of living together, they had settled in a comfortable routine. Currently, they were at the daily cuddling-stage, something they did not nearly get as much as the prefix 'daily' would make people hope and believe. So when someone teleported into the lower floor of their home – a privilege reserved only for themselves and their son in emergencies – neither was particularly happy. Abaddon was halfway down the stairs by the time Azrael had fixed his dishevelled house-robes.

"Gabriel!?" The bulky warrior demanded sharply. "What are you doing here? At this hour?"

"And that outfit." Azrael added while joining his housemate – or husband-to-be, as most of Heaven put it.

"You… What were you thinking!?" She instead demanded, her own mystical energies making the air around her tremble.

Azrael flinched, finding that it was awfully similar to what Abaddon had demanded of him millennia ago. "I take it you found out about Zeruch?"

"He told me." She hissed. "A Nephilim!?"

"Yes, a Nephilim." Abaddon countered vehemently. "What were we supposed to do? Kill him!? He was a child! He hid from you under Azrael's wing if I need to believe the both of you."

"Abaddon." The scholar warned his fellow parent. "Gabriel. I can only imagine how you feel considering what his… kin are doing, but think about this; what did this revelation change? Did it change the last millennia? Did it change him?"

"It…" She flinched, backing away from the two males. "He…"

"Gabriel." Azrael softened his voice, closing the distance between them. "Yes or no? It's a simple question."

"You know it's not!" Her wings snapped around her body, surrounding her like a shield. "They… they _killed_ him, Azrael."

"Yes, _they_ killed Simiel. But Zeruch never fought for them. He was raised here. With our ideals, our values and rules." Behind him, Abaddon deflated at the reminder of one of their friends, Gabriel's third husband… who had died in a skirmish with the people of the man she was currently courting. "Is he any less an angel just for having Lilith involved in his birth?"

"I… I guess not." She refused to look at him, being almost a ball of feathers. "But…"

"Yes?" Abaddon closed in as well, resting his hand on the top of her wings.

"Why only now?" Her eyes were shining with tears. "Why would he only tell me now? Ten years into the courtship."

"When should he have told you then? It's not something one can do easily." The General countered dryly. "I'd like to see a conversation where one can point out that one is not the race people think."

Azrael groaned lightly at that statement, earning a microscopic smile from their friend. "Besides, look at it like this; he obviously trusts you immensely to tell you this. You should be honoured."


	45. Chapter 44

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **T**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **44 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Zeruch had not left his spot on her couch, almost serenely waiting for her return. When she returned from wherever she had teleported, he was amazed to see that she was _alone_.

"My Lady?"

"I thought I told you to call me 'Gabriel' a couple years ago?" She countered softly, sitting down beside him. Before he could say anything, she raised her hand to stop him. "I am not happy that you never bothered to mention this little fact to me, but I think it is fair to say that there would never have been a good time for _that_ reveal." She sighed softly. "I am willing to have us continue this, just promise me not to hide such things anymore."

"You're willing to continue?" He demanded incredulously. He had expected at best a breaking off of their courtship, not this.

"I courted you for ten years by now, Zeruch." She pointed out with a weak smile. "That's something I'd rather not waste." Looking away briefly, her face became something of a grimace though. "Though I think I'll need some time to get back to the whole 'becoming engaged'-point of things again."

"Understandably." He hesitantly reached for her hand. "I can understand that me being a Nephilim might need some getting used to."

"You don't." She allowed him to take her hand. "My previous husband… the third one… Simiel… he fell against… against the Nephilim."

Zeruch flinched at that. "I… I am sorry." No wonder she had immediately fled after he had revealed it.

"You're not to blame for it." Gabriel chuckled weakly. "I do believe you were not born then."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

After this, it lasted only a few months until Gabriel announced her engagement to Zeruch. It was during the planning of their wedding – this time with an appropriate time – that Abaddon received word from the Charred Council.

"Abaddon, you _cannot_ afford to leave me behind! I am devastating on the battlefield." Azrael insisted for what might have well been the millionth time since his fellow parent had announced to the City that the Nephilim were moving on Eden. Outside, the Hellguard was gathering in full force together with parts of several outpost-garrisons including Silverwall, leaving only several of the lesser Guards as protection for the City and mere fractions of the normal forces in the outposts.

"I know, old friend, but you are needed here in case the Hellguard falls. You and the rest will be the First Kingdom's last defence." Abaddon explained again, while strapping the final armour-piece. "The Throne and The Circle agreed with this strategy, if I may remind you."

Azrael nearly growled at that. "I still say that is asinine. My presence would greatly increase our chances. Besides, who's going to keep you and Zeruch out of trouble!?"

"Both Zeruch and I are highly competent warriors, Azrael and we have a whole army to back us up." The General collected his sword; giving it the last inspection, before stowing it in its scabbard at his side. "Besides, compared to us you are too invaluable; you will be needed at the Well."

"I just know you two will get yourselves killed somehow without me." Azrael sighed. "Try not to do that, alright?" He looked out of the window, wondering if now would be a good time to speak of their changing relationship... probably not.

"I'll try my very best and will pass on your request to Zeruch." Abaddon then gave the scholar a quick grin. "If I somehow fall, I give you full permission to yank me out of the Well to yell at me."

"I'll keep you to that." Said scholar snorted in amusement now. "Oh, and if you're passing things on to Zeruch anyway: one, no full-body meteorites and two..." He spread his wings, drifting upwards just enough that he could touch Abaddon's forehead with his lips, brushing a brief kiss on it before setting down again.

Touching the place where Azrael kissed him, Abaddon nodded at the Archangel. Turning around and heading outside; however right before he stepped out, he suddenly turned back to Azrael and kissed him swiftly on his lips. "We'll be alright", the broader angel whispered and then he was out the door.

"You better..." The Gatekeeper whispered weakly, wrapping himself in his wings. "You damn better."


	46. Chapter 45

**Category:** **Darksiders I &amp; II**

**Rating:** **T**

**Couples:** **Azrael/Abaddon, Zeruch(War)/OC**

**Warnings:** **AU, Disturbing Imagery**

**Chapter:** **44 **

**Copyright:** **Characters &amp; places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot &amp; OC´s © by me**

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Well, I suppose it's better this happens now than after we got married." Gabriel whispered tersely. "I think Heaven would explode if I lost _another_ husband."

"And you'd be heartbroken." He stepped behind her, and with a boldness he rarely possessed wrapped her in his arms. She shifted her wings, but didn't answer. "I would not dare die on you, Gabriel. Not after everything that happened."

"You can't say that." Her hands clung to his arms. "Don't you think my other husbands said the same at some point?" She took several shuddering breaths. "You can't say that…"

He would have wrapped her in his wings if he could, instead he tightened his arms around her. "I am saying that. And I'd swear it as well." He snorted lightly. "Do you really think I'd risk someone else getting you after all the trouble I had?"

She snorted as well now, even though it was weak. "Think you got some time for cuddling still?"

"I'll make some." Still bold, he pulled her to the luxurious couch in her living-room.

"I just hope Abaddon will forgive me." She followed, allowing him to place her on the expensive leather. She leaned into him, humming in content when he encased her in one of his wings. "I like this."

"We'll do it every evening once we're married, how's that?" He rested his head on hers, watching as she shifted to snuggle into him more.

"Sound lovely." She reached up, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek which caused him to flush red. The female angel giggled at that. "But you'll have to learn how to deal with that."

"I'll try." He ducked his head, which did hardly anything to make him seem smaller, yerking up when someone knocked on the door.

"Zeruch, we have to leave." Abaddon's voice carried inside.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

In the commander's tent, Abaddon and most of his high officers were gathered around the projected map of Eden. "So if we attack from this point, We can... What is it?" The General looked annoyed at a lieutenant hurrying into the tent.

Looking frantic, the angel muttered: "My Lord; the Charred Council just sent..."

"Us to assist you with your Battle." A grey hand pushed the angelic soldier out of the way.

"Or in other words, the rest of the party." A black-armoured male entered, two guns on his hips. "Real rude not to wait for us with the planning."

The purple-haired female followed after him, sauntering over the table to look at the map.

"What are you doing here?!" The General stared affronted at the three Nephilim walking around the tent. "The Charred Council never informed us of this!"

"The Council believed it very important that Absalom and his ilk must not succeed", Death's red-orange eyes bore into Abaddon's pale ones. "And of all Creation, we have the most knowledge to deal with them."

"Besides, it's rather obvious, little bird." Fury pointed out, poking him with her nail. "Protecting Balance is literally our job-description."

The black-armoured male leaned on the table. "So what were you planning?"

Grinding his teeth at the thought of the bloodhounds of the Council sniffing about his business, Abaddon had no choice but to relay his plans to them. Only a fool would challenge the Creator chosen Council in these dire time. After a few minutes, Death interrupted him however. "No need to drive them away of the realm."

"What?"

"They won't stop just after one defeat, trust us." Fury threw a quick glance at the third Horseman when she said that. "They are to _die_ on the field tomorrow, down to the last."

Abaddon blinked at this. "You want to kill them all? Aren't they your people?!"

"We are here to protect the Balance and they are a threat." The Masked Horsemen thumbed his scythe. "Thus we must eradicate everyone of the Nephilim race who are not bound to the Charred Council."

"Slaughter being fun and all that." The black-armoured male hoisted himself up on the table. "Just make sure you don't walk in front of us, and we can all be chill." He grinned as frost appeared on the table.

A shiver ran down Abaddon's spine.


End file.
